


emotional motion sickness.

by queenieface



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Bullying, F/M, Fluff, Found Families, Gratuitous Hand Holding, Healthy Polyamory, Healthy Relationships, I don't hate Blackwall I just got halfway through the story before I realized I'd forgotten him, Iron Bull is a Big Soft Man and you can't convince me otherwise, M/M, Multi, Platonic Soulmates, Romance, Smut, Trauma, at least two fist fights, no jealousy, so he's not here, sorry Blackwall stans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-07 08:37:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 53
Words: 105,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17957225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenieface/pseuds/queenieface
Summary: "You don't honestly think the Chantry's going to listen to me, do you?" Aoife asked. Cassandra shrugged."And why wouldn't they?" She asked. Aoife narrowed her eyes."I don't know if you're being obtuse or if you're fucking with me because you think it's funny." Aoife muttered. Cassandra sighed loudly.----Aoife Lavellan spent a long time watching the people she loved dying. Until one day, they didn't anymore.A story about how one mile can be harder to walk than thirty, and all the steps in between.





	1. one - 9:06 Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> *slides in with a new story while ignoring the unfinished ones*  
> Hi! Thanks for dropping in!
> 
> This story is complete - it just may take me a few days to post it up entirely. Thanks for taking a chance on it, and I hope you like it!
> 
> Blackwall wasn't left out of the story purposefully. I got halfway through the story before I realized I hadn't included him, and it was much too late to go back and add him in. So. Sorry?
> 
> And also! I played around with the timeline to suit my needs. Please don't @ me about it. I know it's not the same as the game timeline. I just thought it suited my needs better!
> 
> And lastly! There are lines included from the game! These things are obviously not mine. Aoife, Talagan, Siobhan, and Valen are all my creations, but everything else is obviously part of the Dragon Age world and belongs to everyone that includes.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! ~Queenie

**One - 9:06 Dragon**

 

" _ Hahren,  _ what's a orphan mean?"  
  
The elders were gathered around the large fire in the center of the camp, but the small voice that broke through their conversations was only directed toward the Keeper. Deshanna glanced down to see the small form of Aoife* Lavellan tugging at her robes.  
  
"Why do you ask,  _ da'len _ ?" Deshanna asked, turning to face the child in front of her. Behind her she could hear the beginning of whispered conversations, and she shot a severe look over her shoulder to end it before it could truly start. Aoife had one hand fisted in Deshanna's robes while the other busily wiped at a steadily running nose.  
  
"Das what Yara said. I wasn't no good cause I was a orphan. But what's a orphan  _ hahren _ ?" Aoife's eyes were wide and curious as she stared up at Deshanna. Deshanna felt a curl of anger slip through her. She was just a  _ child _ , for Mythal's sake, and she hadn't done anything to earn the dislike she was so readily treated with by the others in the clan. Deshanna sighed and loosened Aoife's grip on her robes before holding her small hands carefully in her own.  
  
"To be an orphan means to be without parents. It doesn't mean that you aren't any good, Aoife. It only means that you do not have any parents." Deshanna explained softly. Aoife's tiny brow furrowed for a moment.  
  
"Cause I don't have a  _ mahmen _ ?" Aoife asked. Deshanna nodded. Aoife thought for a moment before she spoke again. "How come I don't have a  _ mahmen _ ?" Deshanna lifted the little girl into her lap and wiped her face with the edge of her tunic.  
  
"Your parents were hunters in the clan. Your mother's name was Meara**, and she had pale hair just like yours. Your father's name was Tadhg***, and he had a laugh that could be heard everywhere in the entire camp. They were wanderers before they joined us, just a few years before you were born. They weren't especially close to anyone, but they were accepted into the clan regardless. You were born on a very cold morning in Drakonis 9:02, and they were so very happy to have you. But just after they had you, there was a terrible storm and your parents were killed." Deshanna said. Aoife's little brow furrowed again.  
  
"But --" She started, but was interrupted when the gamekeeper - who had been sitting across the fire from them - spat noisily into the fire and glared their way.  
  
"They were  _ outsiders _ . Good hunters, maybe, but they didn't belong with us. And then they went off and died and saddled you with the brat." Rochon had always sneered down at Aoife like he'd rather she was anywhere else. His niece, the dark haired girl named Yara, seemed to follow his example.  
  
Deshanna knew the clan was wary about children who didn't fit the norm. There were good enough reasons for avoiding having too many differences, the main one being that it tended to draw even more unnecessary attention from the  _ shemlen _ that they traded with.  
  
Aoife was much more curious and excitable than all the rest of her age group put together. More than once, Deshanna had found Aoife trailing after a toad in the grass after wandering away from her lessons. She was just as likely to wander away from anything she found boring as she was to get herself into trouble by fiddling with things she shouldn't have been. And she was incurably curious about the humans that lived just a few short miles from their campsite. But that wasn't any reasons to treat the child so.  
  
She leveled a glare across the fire at Rochon that said as much. The older man grumbled a little under his breath, but turned his face away from them. Deshanna's glare slid around the fire at the rest of the Elders who were gathered there before she stood from her seat. She set the small girl on her feet and took her by the hand.  
  
"Come along now,  _ da'len _ . It's much too late at night for a youngling like yourself to be out wandering." Deshanna led Aoife back to their shared aravel and tucked her into bed. She'd liked Aoife's parents, as little as she'd known them, and when they'd died it hadn't even occurred to her  _ not _ to take their child into her care. She'd never had children of her own, and caring for Aoife helped soothe some of the sting of that.  
  
" _ Hahren _ ?" Aoife whispered when Deshanna had her tucked in nice and cozy. She sat down on the bed beside Aoife and waited for her to finish speaking. "I'm gonna be the best Lavellan ever. Then they can't say mean things anymore. And I'm gonna make Yara say sorry for being mean." Aoife's eyes were fairly shining in the dim light of the aravel. Deshanna smiled despite herself, leaning forward to kiss Aoife's forehead.  
  
"I am absolutely certain you're right. Now it's time for younglings to be sleeping." Deshanna sang a little bit of a soft lullaby she remembered Aoife's mother singing for her. Aoife was built of sterner stuff than the rest of the clan could ever imagine, Deshanna was sure of that. She just had to get old enough to prove it.

 

 

* * *

*Aoife (pronounced "EE-fa")

**Meara (pronounced "meer-a")

***Tadhg (pronounced like "thaig")

 


	2. two - Kingsway 9:07 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There are so many children now, Deshanna, and so few hunters. How will we feed them all?" The Elders worried.
> 
> Aoife slipped down from the tree to wade through the cool, clear water, only returning when she heard the sound of Talagan laughing her name.

**Two. Kingsway 9:07 Dragon**

  
  


There was a small river that trickled through the edges of the forest where Aoife grew up. The Elders had expressly forbidden all the younglings from going near it without an adult, but Aoife rarely listened to what they had to say. They didn't seem all that concerned with fetching her back from the river, either.  
  
By the time she'd reached her fifth year, things had settled into something of a routine. Aoife would grudgingly attend her lessons in the mornings, and then some time after the afternoon meal, she'd slip away down to the river.  
  
She spent all of her afternoons there that summer, wading through the cool water along the riverbank. She collected smooth speckled rocks that washed up on the banks, and dug shiny bits of stone out of the shallow water. The water in the river ran cool against her bare feet and ankles, and the birds that lived in the trees sang sweetly.  
  
The trees that surrounded the river were old, much older than anything Aoife had ever seen. They were huge, clustered around the riverbank with gnarled and twisted roots and wide branches that arched out over the water.  
  
The largest tree was just far enough from the camp that she could feel like she was escaping, but still close enough that  _ should _ someone start shouting for her, she could make it back before they found her hiding place. Aoife would inevitably end up there every afternoon, yanking herself up the large tree to nap in the wide branches. She'd lay on her back and stare up at the sky, watching the way the light flickered through the gaps in the leaves.  
  
Sometimes though, she heard the Elders talking. They would have secret meetings at the riverbank where they thought they wouldn't be overheard by the others in the clan. They would bend around Deshanna and worry about the coming winter, harsh lines etched into their foreheads as they frowned at her.  
  
"There are so many children now, Deshanna, and so few hunters. How will we feed them all?" Rochon asked one day, worry clear on his wrinkled face. Aoife thought it was strange that his face could look anything other than angry. Another Elder, a kind-eyed woman who had only ever shouted at Aoife once, and only because Aoife was about to get hurt, nodded her head.  
  
"The village grows further every day, it seems. They've been tolerant enough of us settling here so far, but what about once the cold and hunger sets in? Will we be hunted then? We don't have enough warriors to protect the clan if that happens." The woman's voice was soft enough that Aoife had to strain to hear it over the sound of the wind through the treetops.  
  
Deshanna had frowned deeply before heading back toward the camp. The Elders followed her, whispering concerns at her the whole way. Aoife slipped down from the tree to wade through the cool, clear water. The Elders were always concerned about something, it didn't matter all that much to her what it was this time.  
  
She picked her way along the riverbed for another hour or so, only returning to the camp when she heard the sound of Talagan laughing her name.


	3. three - Solace 9:14 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hahren said that Falon'din and Dirthamen cared so much about each other that they were always together."
> 
> "That's us."
> 
> "Yes. Yes, Aoife. That's us."

**Three. Solace 9:14 Dragon**

 

Talagan had been born six days after her, and the two of them had been attached at the hip for as long as she could remember. He'd just, always been there. Pulling her out of trouble, making excuses for her when she slipped away from her lessons, sneaking her extra pieces of her favorite treats when she got in trouble.  
  
When they learned about the gods in their lessons, on a rare day that Talagan managed to get her to attend, Aoife ignored most of the lesson in favor of cloud watching. Until they got to the part about the twins, Falon'din and Dirthamen. Aoife paid attention then.  
  
She heard 'inseparable bond' and 'twin souls' and thought  _ Oh, that's us. That's what Talagan is for me. He won't ever leave me. _ She didn't really know what that meant, when she thought about it, but she knew it was true in her heart.  
  
That afternoon, she dragged Talagan away from the camp and down to the river. They climbed Aoife's favorite tree and huddled close together in the branches.  
  
"Talagan?" Aoife said, squeezing his hand. Talagan grinned at her and squeezed back.  
  
"Yeah?" He asked.  
  
"Remember what the teacher was talking about today? About those two that are gonna be together forever?" She asked him. Talagan nodded his head.  
  
"Yeah.  _ Hahren _ said that Falon'din and Dirthamen cared so much about each other that they were always together. And that when Falon'din decided to lead the souls across the veil, Dirthamen joined him so they wouldn't have to be apart." He repeated, grinning at Aoife. Aoife squeezed his hand again.  
  
"That's us." She said. Talagan seemed confused for a moment before he laughed.  
  
"Yes. Yes Aoife, that's us." He said, holding her hands close to his chest. Aoife felt like there was a sun rising in her chest when he smiled at her just then.  
  
"So, you won't leave, right?" She asked him. Talagan shook his head.  
  
"Never." He promised.  
  
_ This must be what home feels like,  _ Aoife thought, welling up with hope. She pressed her shoulder against his and they watched the sun slowly slip down toward the horizon before racing each other back to camp.  
  
And it was enough, almost, to know that Talagan was on her side. Sometimes, the whispers of the elders were much louder than whispers. Sometimes they were shouts and curses. Sometimes an elder would spit at her, or smack her around. She didn't really know  _ why _ they didn't like her so much. She was just a little . . . different.  
  
She didn't like to sit and listen to the lectures. She didn't want to learn about skinning animals or caring for the halla. She wanted to ride the big harts that the hunters would tell stories about and climb trees. She wanted to fish and play and laugh.  
  
But sometimes, the pressure of being  _ different _ was too heavy, and Aoife was still  _ young _ .  
  
One day, after she'd been smacked once and spit at twice, she crawled into Deshanna's bed and curled up against her.  
  
Aoife had only the memories that Deshanna had given her of her parents. She held their names close to her chest, murmuring them to herself like a mantra when the elders were particularly unkind, and  would remind herself that they'd named her after a warrior princess of legend for a reason. Deshanna wasn't a replacement for the mother she'd never known, but she was all the mother Aoife had ever had.  
  
"Aoife, surely you've outgrown needing to sleep with someone?" Deshanna asked her sleepily. Aoife shrugged and snuggled closer to Deshanna.  
  
"They're mean to me  _ hahren _ ." Aoife said, and her voice was very small. Deshanna frowned and tugged the girl closer.  
  
Growing up seemed to take an awfully long time when you were young, but it wouldn't be that much longer before Aoife would learn to give just as good as she got. Of that, Deshanna was certain. She held the little girl close and stayed awake for a long time that night, wondering if any of it could be fixed before things blew up in everyone's faces.  
  
And what it might cost them all if it couldn't.


	4. four - Justinian 9:16 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They're beautiful." He insisted.
> 
> "They're mine." Aoife told him. "And that's all that really matters."

**Four. Justinian 9:16 Dragon**

 

Aoife was the last in her age group to receive her  _ vallaslin _ .  
  
Unlike the rest of the clan who all wore bright, loud tributes to Andruil or Elgar'nan and Mythal, Aoife had chosen a pale, twisting tribute to June. It had been expected, perhaps, that the younglings follow tradition and choose a bright, loud marking for themselves. But Aoife had thought long and hard, and asked Deshanna for advice, and she wasn't ashamed of her choice.  
  
June was, after all, the god of craft. Aoife had always been good with her hands. She could weave or whittle or bead necklaces or embroider. She was fascinated with crafting bows and knifework, even if they never let her hang around very long. As she got older, she found she had quite the talent for creating something out of just a blank piece of wood, or breathing life into scrap fabrics with just a little time and some thread. Aoife had learned how to make something useful out of little scraps, in more ways than one. And she had always seen beauty in the subtleties of things, so a pale  _ vallaslin _ was fitting.  
  
The clan had been proud of everyone else for their choices. Even Talagan had earned approval for his bright green tribute to the goddess Ghilan'nain.  
  
"She's the Goddess of navigation, Aoife. She'll help me find the paths I need and ensure I travel them safely. Don't you want to know where you're going?" Talagan whispered. He was tucked up close to her in her aravel the night before her own ceremony. He wasn't technically allowed to be there with her, but when Aoife had been given her own space - ostensibly to 'allow her a sense and understanding of ownership' but really, as it was situated at the far end of the camp and would be the first one an invader came across, was just a way of keeping her out of everyone's way - just a month beforehand, he had decided to share it with her. His own  _ vallaslin _ was still healing, pink and tender at the edges, and she traced it with cool fingers in wonder.  
  
Aoife laughed softly and leaned her head against his shoulder as her fingers travelled the lines of his  _ vallaslin _ .  
  
"I don't have to know where I'm going. Not if I go with you." She said, snuggling in close. Talagan sighed.  
  
"What if I'm not always with you?" He asked into the quiet darkness of the aravel. Aoife shrugged slowly against him.  
  
"Not possible." She insisted sleepily. "You're here, aren't you?"  
  
The next morning, she stood before the assembled members of the clan. Mostly, it was a sea of faces in varying stages of annoyance. But in the middle, directly in front of her, stood Deshanna and Talagan. They were both beaming at her, and really, they were the only ones who mattered to her regardless.  
  
"I, Aoife of the Lavellans, stand here before you this day to dedicate myself as a marked member of our clan. I have studied the teachings. I have walked the hunter's path. And I have earned the right to wear the marks of my choosing." Aoife's fingers were trembling as she spoke, but her voice didn't waver. "From this day forth until the day Falon'din guides me from this world, I will wear the marks of June. He has blessed me with clever hands and swift fingers, and I will return those blessings to him by my craft. May he always work through my hands."  
  
There was grumbling from the crowd assembled before her, but no one could re-make the choice for her, and with the Keeper standing there, no one even dared to try. It was the first thing aside from Talagan that she got to choose for herself. The clan watched, as was required, as the marks were tattooed into her skin. She kept her stare steady, and did her best not to flinch even once. And when she stood facing them afterward, with the marks still stinging and raw, she was unashamed. She had never been interested in paying tribute to gods who didn't care about her, and she wasn't about to start then, but she'd always been good with her hands.  
  
There was further grumbling as the clan split apart to return to whatever duties required their attention, but Deshanna and Talagan stood still before her. Talagan looked at her with so much pride in his honey-gold eyes that, as far as Aoife was concerned, she might as well have been the only one to get  _ vallaslin  _ ever.  
  
"They're beautiful." Talagan insisted that night as he watched Aoife smooth a soothing balm across the tender marks.  
  
"They're mine." Aoife told him. "And that's all that really matters. I made this choice myself."


	5. five - Solace 9:18 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aoife snarled at the girl beneath her.
> 
> "Speak to me again, Yara dear, and I'll rip out your tongue and feed it to you!"

**Five. Solace 9:18 Dragon**

 

The girl was named Yara, and Aoife hated her. Well, they hated each other.  
  
She was the gamekeeper's niece, and in the eyes of the clan there was little that Yara could do wrong. Aoife might have hated her just on principal, but as they got older the girl kept giving Aoife perfectly valid reasons to hate her.  
  
Yara was only a few scant months older than Aoife, born at the end of a mild winter in 9:01 Dragon, but she still demanded the rest of them call her  _ hahren _ .  
  
"I'm older, and I'm wiser than any of you all anyhow. It makes perfect sense, so in the future, you'll all address me as  _ hahren _ ." She announced a few short weeks after they'd all received their  _ vallaslin _ . She had watched Aoife visibly bristle and smirked her way. Talagan had had to pull her away before she started the fight that Yara clearly thought she wanted.  
  
Aoife refused to call her  _ hahren _ . She didn't call anyone but Deshanna  _ hahren _ , and it aggravated her to see all the others in their age group aside from herself and Talagan following along with Yara's lead. Once Aoife had gotten old enough to give as good as she got, she'd never taken something sitting down. As such, she'd spent the last two years very clearly speaking Yara's name whenever she absolutely had to speak to her. Aoife used a wide, empty smile accompanied with a sickly sweet  _ "Yes, Yara dear?" _ that set Yara's shoulders in a tight line and usually had her stomping away from Aoife before it could turn into a proper fight.  
  
One mild afternoon, Yara cornered Aoife by the halla pen. Aoife  _ hated _ minding the halla, and she'd been somewhat distracted by the bracelet she was currently weaving, which was why Yara was able to sneak up on her in the first place. Yara shoved Aoife back against the fence roughly before crossing her arms over her chest.  
  
"What you have with Talagan is wrong." Yara said, smirking up at Aoife. Aoife was pleased to note that even on uneven ground, she was still much taller than Yara. And then she realized what Yara was talking about.  
  
"Don't talk about things you don't understand, Yara dear." Aoife said, turning to ignore her. Talagan had asked her to stop fighting with the others so much, to walk away from fights before they started, if only to keep a little bit of the peace. But Yara had other plans for the afternoon and she reached out a thin, bony hand. She wrapped her fingers around Aoife's arm just above her elbow and yanked hard, effectively stopping her movement as she dug her sharp fingers into Aoife's arm.  
  
"Everyone in the clan says so. You're an affront to the Lavellan name, and to the gods, and you're going to suffer for it. The elders all say you should have died that winter with your parents." Yara's voice was shrill and cruel, and Aoife felt herself growing angrier with every word that fell out of her mouth.  
  
"Tell me something, Yara dear, do you ever get tired of never having an original thought? Or has it not occurred to you to have one yet?" Aoife snapped, not meeting Yara's eyes as she pried her fingers off. Three of them had broken skin and cut deep, and there was a slow trickle of blood down Aoife's forearm.  
  
_ Yara doesn't know anything about me, or who I am. _ Aoife told herself, the same thing she'd been telling herself for years. She had always been Yara's favorite target, and no one in the clan had ever tried to stop Yara.  __ She's just repeating the hateful things she's heard the elders saying about me for years. And they don't know anything about me either.  
  
Yara's smirk grew wider. Aoife wondered if she understood exactly what they were talking about after all.  
  
"They're going to marry him to me. His mother and mine agreed just last night. He's going to be mine in less than a year, and you're going to be sent away to burden some other clan. You're never going to see him again." Yara's voice was loud and cruel. Aoife was perfectly still for a moment before she turned to meet Yara's gaze.  
  
Aoife's eyes were another thing that had always set her apart from the clan. Most of the clan had eyes in varying shades of brown, lovely warm tones that always made Aoife think of her favorite trees. But Aoife's eyes had a strange paleness to them, like weak sunlight, combined with a shock of red right around the ring of her pupil. Talagan had called them dragon eyes, once. Aoife still thought of that fondly. Those same, strange eyes pinned Yara in place as Aoife's anger grew. Yara had a single moment to wonder if she should have started this without witnesses around before Aoife  _ attacked _ .  
  
When Talagan happened upon them nearly five minutes later, Aoife had her pinned to the ground. She had broken Yara's nose and blacked both of her eyes and was rearing back for another heavy punch when Talagan grabbed her arm.  
  
"Aoife! Stop!" He yelled, wrapping his hands around both of her wrists to stop her movement. Aoife snarled at the girl beneath her.  
  
"Speak to me again, Yara dear, and I'll rip out your tongue and feed it to you!" Aoife yelled while Talagan pulled her off the other girl. Yara lay still where she'd been pinned and whimpered pitifully. Talagan helped Yara off the ground. He shot a firm, disapproving look at Aoife and led Yara to the healer. When he returned a few moments later he wrapped a hand carefully around the curve of Aoife's uninjured elbow and marched her back to her own aravel.  
  
Aoife watched his face carefully as they walked. He frowned the entire time, and when he helped her inside, and when he set her down at the low table inside, and when he started cleaning the blood of her knuckles. She catalogued her own injuries. Yara was absolutely worse off than Aoife was, but she had a few scrapes of her own. Yara's nails had gouged into her arm and sliced through her left eyebrow. She had a bite mark on her right hand that was looking uglier by the minute, and there were more than a few bruises she could feel forming all around her waist and stomach from where Yara had thrashed at her. Talagan's deep sigh drew her attention back to him.  
  
"You can't behave like this Aoife. It's beneath you, and you know she's going to use this against you." He said finally. His voice was soft as he worked, and his hands were gentle despite the deep frown on his face. Aoife watched him finish cleaning the blood off her knuckles before moving to the now-throbbing bite wound. She frowned deeply.  
  
"They want to take you away from me." She began, and she felt hot tears welling in the corners of her eyes. "The clan wants to send me away. They say that what we have is wrong." Her voice was loud in the relative quiet of the aravel. Talagan stilled. His hands hovered over hers as he tried to meet her eyes.  
  
"What are you talking about, Aoife?" He asked her. She didn't meet his searching stare, afraid that the tears would spill over if she did.  
  
"Yara was telling me that your mothers made some sort of marriage agreement last night, and that they were going to have the two of you married in less than a year. That I'd never see you again. And well, you saw how I felt about that." Aoife pointedly stared at her ragged knuckles. Talagan frowned deeper, but he said nothing. He finished cleaning her hands before turning his attention to the cut at her eyebrow. Aoife waited for him to clean the blood off of her face before she spoke again.  
  
"I won't let them have you. I know that's selfish of me. I know that's not fair. But they can't have you, Talagan." She met his eyes squarely. "Unless, I mean, unless you want to leave. Then you don't have to stay." Her voice was just shy of breaking as she spoke. Talagan's face was soft in the dim light of the aravel as he took her hands in his own.  
  
For all that they were adults now in the eyes of the clan - and  _ had  _ been since they got their  _  vallaslin -  _ they were still very young indeed. Talagan had always understood that better than Aoife, but he supposed that was because she'd never really been allowed to be a child. He pressed a soft kiss into the palms of her hands before he answered her.  
  
"No one can take me away, Aoife. And I'm not interested in leaving. I promised you when we were children, and I promised you when you got your  __ vallaslin , and I'm promising now. I'm not leaving. And I have always kept my promises to you, haven't I?" He asked. Aoife felt a tear slip down her cheek. She nodded in response, afraid her voice would break. Talagan finished cleaning the scrapes and scratches on her face before he pressed a tentative kiss to her cheek.  
  
"Well, I'm not going to start breaking them now."


	6. six - Solace 9:18 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That's ridiculous!"   
> "Have you lost your mind boy?"  
> "How dare you speak out against your family's wishes?!"  
> "What right do you have?"  
> "We should have drowned her when she was a child!"

**Six. Solace 9:18 Dragon**

 

The two of them talked late into the night, weighing their options, and in the morning Talagan called the clan together. They were barely 16 years, but they stood tall and proud before the clan.  
  
"I have recently heard some troubling things. And I am here before all of you to set the record straight." Talagan's voice was strong as he addressed the clan. He glanced at Aoife before speaking again.  
  
"As marked members of the clan, we are allowed the chance to stand before you and make our claims. And that is what we are doing now. We won't be parted from each other. I've heard there's some kind of agreement to marry me off to someone else, but that agreement can't be made without my permission. And you don't have it. No one does, and you never will. I will make my own choices. My choice is Aoife, and it always has been. Aoife is mine, and I am hers. Not a single one of you has to like it, but you will respect it. Or we will leave to find a clan kinder than this one."  
  
There was a still, quiet moment after Talagan had finished speaking before a riot of sound erupted.  
  
"That's ridiculous!" "Have you lost your mind boy?" "How dare you speak out against your family's wishes?!" "What right do you have?" "We should have _drowned_ her when she was a child!"  
  
Talagan's face grew very serious and his expression grew harder the louder the voices got. Deshanna said nothing from her spot at the back of the crowd, but Aoife saw the soft smile on her face as she watched the two of them. Aoife glanced through the rest of the crowd and spotted Yara by her mother, looking especially put out with two dark eyes and a crooked nose. When she noticed Aoife's eyes on her, she glared back as best as she could.  
  
"Enough!" Talagan said. His voice was raised just enough to be heard over the rising din. He met the eyes of each member of the clan before ending with his parents. "I have made my choice. I will not step down. I will not unmake my claim. Aoife is mine and I am hers."  
  
More shouting erupted. The clan fought and argued for the better part of another hour. None of them wanted to lose Talagan. He was one of the best hunters in the clan, despite his young age, and losing him meant losing food. Which, with the winter closing in on them, the clan could not afford to do. But keeping Talagan also meant keeping Aoife, and the clan had been looking forward to marrying her off to some other clan as soon as the chance appeared.  
  
As the sun travelled across the sky and the clan showed no sign of slowing their argument, Talagan finally lost his patience. He took Aoife's hand in his and walked away from the knot of angry elders. He had said what needed to be said, and only someone stupid would try to stop them from leaving. He had already gathered his belongings from his family's aravel and quietly moved them into Aoife's. All that was left was to take himself there.  
  
When they were finally alone in the dark of their now-shared space, he kissed her. It was soft and sweet, and they were both blushing when it ended. Aoife took a half-step back from him to meet his eyes.  
  
"Welcome home." She whispered, grinning. Talagan placed his hands gently on her cheeks.  
  
" _ Ma vhenan _ , I am yours." He whispered. He traced the lines on her face and smiled as her blush deepened. "I am yours and you are mine and nothing that anyone says can change that."  
  
Aoife kissed him in response, and they both laughed when she nearly knocked them both over in her hurry to get her arms around him.  
  
She spent eleven years at his side after that night, laughing and singing and hunting. The clan never really approved, but they stopped arguing about it after the first year.  
  
Talagan loved her like the first touch of frost, the dew on a flower just before sunrise, the sweet scent of night-blooming lilies - soft, gentle, and ultimately, fleeting.


	7. seven - Cloudreach 9:29 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Be careful, Aoife. Most of us don't care you and yours are Dalish. But not everyone thinks like us."
> 
> "I'm always careful, Tomas." She promised.
> 
> "You come back and see me. Let me know you're alright."

**Seven. Cloudreach 9:29 Dragon**

 

The first watery rays of light were slipping through the opening in the aravel when Aoife slipped from bed that morning. She moved quietly around the aravel as she got ready, humming some tune she'd learned from a trapper named Tomas who lived in the nearby village. He had been singing it to his children as Aoife happened by, and the man had always liked Aoife. She'd been by his place enough that his children called out 'Auntie!' every time they saw her, and he'd always offered her a cup of something warm when the weather turned sour.  
  
Talagan was sleeping in their bed, the furs pooling at the small of his back as he snored gently. Aoife watched him fondly for just a moment longer. She slipped back into the bed to curl against his side, spreading her cold fingers across his shoulders and back. He grumbled under his breath before he turned his head toward her. He opened one single eye and stared at her blearily through the mass of his golden hair.  
  
"Rabbit tonight?" She whispered, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his left ear. Talagan grumbled under his breath as his ear twitched and he nodded. Aoife laughed softly. " _ Ar lath ma, vhenan _ ." Aoife whispered as she tucked him back in. She gathered her things and slipped out of the aravel. The sun had just started to rise over the highest tops of the trees around them and was casting warm, buttery sunlight across the entire camp.  
  
It was the dawn of 3 Cloudreach 9:29, and it was going to be a beautiful day.  
  
Aoife spent the day as she usually did, hunting quietly through the forest. She wasn't the best hunter the clan had, but she did well enough with her traps. She made her way into the nearby town, stopping in to speak with Tomas.  
  
"Some bad business on the other side of town, I think." He said when he saw her. "Best to go the back route today. Butcher's not taking business today, but you can visit Rickon at the bakery and he'll make the trades for you. You won't be short of coin." Tomas said. Aoife narrowed her eyes at him.  
  
"What sort of bad business?" She asked. He huffed and handed her a cup of warm tea. She could hear the children moving about inside the house.  
  
"Two templars came into town last evening. Found out about the butcher's boy." Tomas whispered. Aoife held the mug closer to her face to breathe in the warm steam.  
  
"Did they take him?" She asked. The butcher's boy had come into his magic some four years beforehand. Most people were wary of magic, but the small village was close knit, and more than that they were fond of the butcher and his family. It had been something of an open secret in the town for as long as Aoife could recall. Tomas frowned deeply.  
  
"They should have done, but the boy was scared. He lashed out. Set fire to one of the Templar's armor." Tomas shook his head. "Killed the boy outright." His face was grave. Aoife stared down at her mug.  
  
"Seems like more than bad business, Tomas. Aren't Templars supposed to protect mages?" Aoife asked him. Tomas shrugged.  
  
"Maker only knows. Only ever met a few myself, and they all seemed to think mages were some sort of stain the Maker left behind on the world. Had one tell me mages were were a curse for the death of Andraste. Don't know where in the Chant it says that, though." Tomas grumbled. Aoife finished her tea and handed the mug back to him.  
  
"Thank you for telling me, Tomas. I need to trade a few things and then get back to let the Keeper know. Might be better for us to shift our camp for a while if there are twitchy Templars about." She mused. Tomas took the mug from her and caught her hand.  
  
"Be careful, Aoife. Most of us don't care you and yours are Dalish, your trade's as good as any other, and no one's going to turn away good meat and furs. But not everyone thinks like us. I don't want to tell the kids something bad happened to you." He held her eyes for a long moment, waiting for Aoife to answer him.  
  
"I'm always careful, Tomas." She promised, but she patted his hand with her free one. He held her gaze for another long moment before he let her go.  
  
"You come back and see me again after you get your camp settled. Let me know you're alright." He said. Aoife nodded and waved at him as she walked away. She tugged her hood up over her head and headed around the back of the houses that lined the main street of the village. She worked her way through town quickly and quietly and made the trades she needed to, very aware of the heavy atmosphere and the almost pained stares the townspeople were making toward the butcher shop.  
  
She slipped back out of town, waving at Tomas as she passed, and made her way back to the camp. The Keeper would want to know about the Templars, and it was time for them to shift camp upriver for a while regardless. The sun set slowly as she wandered back, until just the faintest streaks of orange remained in the sky when she walked back into the camp.  
  
When she had, she wasn't sure she'd returned to the right place. The clan looked just as drawn and solemn as the people in town had, and the gamekeeper's aravel was in ashes.  
  
No one could look at her, and while that was hardly out of the norm, after the atmosphere in the village it set her teeth on edge. She saw Deshanna as she made her way back to her aravel, and when she saw it stood empty it threw a knot of worry into her chest.  
  
"What happened,  _ hahren _ ?" She asked, and Deshanna didn't answer. Her eyes were sadder than Aoife had ever seen. "Where is he?!" She yelled, and Deshanna didn't answer.


	8. eight - Cloudreach 9:29 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You let them make him leave and you knew I would be angry. You knew I would follow after him. You don't get to talk about what he would want to me!"

**Eight. Cloudreach 9:29 Dragon**

 

"His magic appeared, quite suddenly." Deshanna said, placing her hands on Aoife's shoulders, still without meeting Aoife's eyes. "He was shocked, as we all were. After some discussion, we agreed that he wouldn't be able to stay with us. We already have so many mages, and -"  
  
"He was dangerous!" Someone yelled. "He burned down the gamekeeper's aravel! He could have killed us all!"  
  
_ Maybe he should have! _ Aoife thought, but she held it back at the hurt look on Deshanna's face. She swallowed back her confusion and anger and tried to stay calm.  
  
"He was a well-trained hunter of the clan, and we have mouths to feed. Surely this could have waited." She argued, her heart in her throat.  
  
"We don't need another mage!" Someone else yelled, and Aoife whirled around to face the crowd.  
  
"Say that to my face, cowards!" She snarled. "Talagan was a better man than any of you!"  
  
It was the first time the clan had ever been cruel to anyone but her.  
  
It took her another two hours to get Deshanna to tell her where they'd sent him, and by then it was well dark. The sky above them was an inky stretch of thousands of stars when Aoife picked up her knives and her travel pack and headed for the edge of the clan grounds.  
  
"Wait, Aoife. It's late. Wait until morning -" Deshanna began, and Aoife whirled around to face the older woman.  
  
"What, like you had him wait? Like you made them wait to kick him out?" Aoife yelled. Her voice was hurt and angry. Deshanna's expression was pained.  
  
"I tried, Aoife. I couldn't stop the clan, they'd have killed him. Please, wait until morning  _ da'len _ . Talagan wouldn't want you to -"  
  
"You don't get to talk about him to me Deshanna! You let them make him leave and you knew I would be angry. You knew I would follow after him. You don't get to talk about what he would want to me!" Aoife hissed before pushing past her.  
  
The journey to the nearest clan took her a full ten hours of angry movement, her heart racing the entire time. She was tired and sore when she finally arrived, but she'd stayed awake longer for worse things. A hunter met her at the edge of the clan grounds and took her straight to the Keeper. The Keeper was a tall elvhen man with deep brown skin. His pale  _ vallaslin _ stood out attractively on his skin in a more complex version of her own tribute to June.  
  
" _ Aneth ara, lethallan. _ What brings you to us?" The Keeper asked, smiling at Aoife. Aoife managed to return a weak grin.  
  
"Has anyone else come? A man, a mage, my age. His name is Talagan, and he has long blond hair and golden eyes. He bears Ghilan'nain's  _ vallaslin _ ." She asked. The Keeper frowned and shook his head.  
  
"No, I'm sorry  _ lethallan _ . No one's come, although we'd gladly take another mage in our number. If you find him and you need a home, you're both welcome to stay with us." He said, and his smile was very kind. Aoife frowned, but nodded at him.  
  
"Thank you,  _ hahren _ . I will remember that." Aoife was tired and sick with worry, but she had to find him. She stood from her seat by the fire and stumbled as she tried to regain her balance. The Keeper reached out to steady her.  
  
"Surely you don't have to leave immediately? Let us give you a place to rest, even for an hour. It is likely that your friend is on his way here, and you can take a little time to recover before you return to your search." His voice was deeply concerned. Aoife thought about Deshanna for a moment before she shook her head.  
  
"No, thank you. I need to find him. Once I do, please expect us back  _ hahren. _ I won't forget your kindness. May Sylaise bless your hearths." Aoife said.  
  
" _ Mythal'enaste _ . Please, take something to eat at least." The Keeper said, motioning for one of the hunters to bring something. Aoife accepted it gratefully, shovelling it into her mouth as fast as she could before she turned to leave. She followed the path she took from her camp, searching for any sign of Talagan. She didn't want to lose him because she was careless.  
  
When she made it back to her camp, she still hadn't found any sign of him. She intended on stopping at her aravel to change clothes and gather more supplies, when she was stopped short by the sight of Deshanna at the edge of camp. Her face was grim and drawn as she watched Aoife approach.  
  
"Aoife," she began, and something about it made Aoife's chest ache fiercely.  
  
"No," Aoife said, and she moved to push past Deshanna. Deshanna stopped her with a single hand.  
  
"He was found an hour after you left by some hunters returning. There were Templars sighted in the village nearby. It appears . . . it appears that he ran across them and they fought. He was . . . he was badly beaten and it seems like he bled out before anyone could find him. There was nothing that could be done." Aoife crumpled. Just, collapsed there by Deshanna's legs.  
  
"Where is he?" She asked weakly. Deshanna crouched next to her and put a gentle hand on her back.  
  
"I asked the clan to wait, but  . . . his parents were insistent. He was placed on the pyre as soon as his body was returned to us. Falon'din would not have guided him if we had waited. I am so sorry,  _ da'len _ ." Deshanna said. Aoife heard the deep sorrow in Deshanna's voice, but it didn't matter. Aoife was broken.  
  
"He was an excellent shot, the best hand to hand fighter we have. There's no way he could have died. Please, just let me see the body." Aoife began, fierce and argumentative.  
  
"You know you cannot,  _ da'len _ . He is gone." Deshanna said. She squeezed Aoife's shoulder. "I'm sorry." Aoife stared at the ground ahead of her unseeingly.  
  
"Please, please Deshanna. Please. It's a lie. Please tell me it's a lie. He can't be dead, he can't. He promised me. Please, please tell me he isn't." Aoife begged. She met Deshanna's watery stare for a long moment before the tears came. Deshanna helped her back to her still-empty aravel. She sat in the wreckage of the life she used to have and cried until she couldn't breathe anymore.  
  
Aoife spent an entire year in silent mourning, and Deshanna had never been so hateful of silence.


	9. nine - 9:31 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She shook her head.
> 
> "I'm just another Dalish." She said, squeezing his hands. Tomas laughed.
> 
> "Right, and I'm a chaste Chantry mother."

**Nine. 9:31 Dragon**

 

"It's been two years, hasn't it?" Tomas asked softly, watching Aoife as she taught his daughter Irenna to weave. Aoife glanced up from the loom and frowned. She patted Irenna on the shoulder and walked to where he stood by the window.  
  
"You know it has." She answered. Tomas sighed deeply.  
  
"You heard the rumors?" He asked. Aoife shrugged.  
  
"I've heard lots of rumors. Don't know what to believe." She answered. They watched Irenna working at the loom for a few long minutes.  
  
In the two years since Talagan's death, Aoife had stayed with her clan out of a lack of will to do anything else.  
  
She spent more time with Tomas and his children. She hunted for her clan and the village. She helped fight the stray darkspawn that made their way too close. She spent long nights clinging to the spare bits of Talagan that had been left in her aravel. She survived, if only barely. In an uncomfortable twist of fate, the clan liked her more now than they ever had. She tried incredibly hard not to be actively bitter about that.   
  
Her life was a mostly-grey smear of the same things over and over and over again.  
  
And then they started hearing the whispers in town. About the battle of Denerim. How the wardens had killed the Archdemon. How the Warden who had killed the Archdemon - the new Hero of Ferelden - was a Dalish elf just like her. A Dalish from the Sabrae clan that now had the ear and (if the rumors were to be believed) affections of the new king of Ferelden.  
  
Tomas sighed again before slapping a hand against Aoife's shoulder.  
  
"How long do you plan on moping around here, girl?" He asked. Aoife narrowed her eyes at him.  
  
"Who said I'm moping?" She asked. Tomas snorted.  
  
"Anyone you ask. Not saying you don't have the right. Maker knows I've not been the same since my Ida went on to be with the Maker just after Jonas was born." He said, raising a hand to stop the argument he saw building up steam in Aoife's expression. "You're allowed to mourn as long as you want to, Aoife. But I've got the kids. The house. My business. What's keeping you here?" He asked. Aoife studied him.  
  
"Where would I go?" She asked. Tomas shrugged.  
  
"Where do you want to go?" He took one of her hands in his own and gave it a squeeze. "Always felt like you could do whatever you wanted, if you wanted it enough." He said. Aoife felt herself flush. She shook her head.  
  
"I'm just another Dalish." She said, squeezing his hands in return. Tomas laughed.  
  
"Right, and I'm a chaste Chantry mother." He grinned at her. "Always felt like you were another of my kids, you know. So let me give you some fatherly advice." He tossed his free arm around her shoulders and tugged her in for a tight hug. "I don't think that man of yours would have wanted you to stop being curious. The kids love you, and I don't mind having you where I can keep an eye on you either. But you're built for more than this, Aoife. And I don't want you to hold yourself back because you're afraid of losing something else. The kids and I will always be here." He promised. Aoife felt her throat grow tight.  
  
"Talagan promised that, too." She pointed out. Tomas gave her another squeeze.  
  
"So did my Ida, Andraste bless her soul. Guess we'll both have to stick around for each other then, won't we?" He grinned at her. Aoife sniffled.  
  
"Thanks, Tomas." She said, freeing her hands to return the embrace. "I never knew my dad. But you're as good as any, I guess." She said, grinning just a little. Tomas laughed and pushed her away.  
  
"Don't tease. Say goodbye to the kids, Aoife. And then go and find what makes you happy. Don't come back until you do. But write to us, or I'll do myself in with worry." He threatened, but Aoife saw the suspicious dampness in his eyes. Aoife ducked in to give him another tight hug.  
  
"Thanks." She said softly.  
  
That night she returned to the camp and packed only what she could carry. She spent a restless night trying to sleep before deciding to give up and leave before dawn.  
  
Deshanna met her at the gates, and her face was calm.  
  
"You're leaving." Deshanna said, studying the pack on Aoife's shoulders. Aoife said nothing. She hadn't spoken to anyone her age or older in the clan since Talagan's death. She spent more of her time at Tomas' house than anywhere else. Deshanna watched her for another long moment before she reached into a deep pocket in her robes. She then held out a small bone-handled knife to Aoife and pressed it into her hands. Aoife recognized it as a knife Talagan had made for Deshanna some years beforehand.  
  
"To protect you. Where I could not." Deshanna said. Aoife didn't say anything, but she tucked the knife into her pack and hugged Deshanna close before leaving. "I hope you find what you need." Deshanna said softly.  
  
Deshanna watched her walk away until she couldn't see her anymore, and Aoife thought it might be the very first step toward healing.


	10. ten - Cloudreach 9:33 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well, that's that then, girl. You'll be staying with me for a while."
> 
> "Me?" She asked.
> 
> "Do you see anyone else in here besides us? Have you anywhere else to be?"
> 
> Aoife shook her head slowly.
> 
> "Then I guess you'll be staying here with me."

**Ten. Cloudreach 9:33 Dragon**

 

Time passed in a strange blur of places and people after Aoife left her clan.  
  
She kept her promise to Tomas and sent word along when she found someone who wrote better than she did, although she never stayed anywhere long enough to get a letter back. Sometimes she had enough coin to book a room in an inn that looked kindly on wandering Dalish elves, but most nights she found herself sleeping under the stars.  
  
It was strange to think that, even though they were all the same stars and constellations she'd always known, they were somehow so different when she was surrounded by strange and new things.  _ She _ was different.  
  
There were whole weeks that went by without her saying anything to anyone. Most people were all too eager to overlook elves, and the ones that weren't were easily enough avoided as long as she paid attention.  
  
Four years after his death, Aoife found herself in Crestwood. She could have made it there sooner, perhaps, but there were so many detours along the way, and she was  _ still _ just an elf. She'd worked a lot of questionable jobs and travelled in a lot of sketchy caravans to travel as much as she already had.  
  
She was eating her midday meal under a tree on the top of a hill when she met Siobhan.  
  
"Girl! Come here!" A voice rough with age and smoke startled Aoife out of her silent contemplation of the scenery. She glanced around her to find an old woman standing near the bottom of the hill. She stared up at Aoife expectantly. Aoife glanced around them.  
  
"Me?" She asked, having noted there was no one else around. The old woman laughed, a sound like stones tumbling together.  
  
"Are you half-blind too, girl? Yes, you. Come down here." She waved Aoife down the hill. Aoife packed up her few things and made her way down to stand in front of the old woman. She was shorter than Aoife by about an entire foot, and her white hair was still slightly streaked with the deep black it must have all been at some point. Her eyes were dark and keen, even if one of them was clouded by some former trauma, and her tanned and wrinkled face reminded Aoife of walnuts.  
  
"Did you need something?" Aoife asked. The old woman studied her.  
  
"Name's Siobhan*. Take this." She said, shoving the bags she'd been carrying into Aoife's arms. Aoife took them out of reflex and stared at the woman. "Now follow."  
  
The woman took off down the path much faster than Aoife would have imagined, and for lack of a better thing to do, Aoife followed behind. Siobhan marched up the path and into a small cabin that stood just over the next hill.  
  
"What are you dallying for, girl? We haven't got all the daylight in the world to waste. Get in here." Siobhan said, dragging her inside. "Now, set those things here."  
  
She pointed at a high table sitting near the door. Aoife carefully deposited the bags on the table, catching stray fruit as they threatened to roll out onto the floor.  
  
Siobhan lowered herself into a sitting position at a low table near the fire and smacked her cane across it, drawing Aoife's attention.  
  
"Sit, girl." Siobhan barked, pointing at the cushion across from her. Aoife took a seat warily, wondering exactly what she'd managed to get herself into. Siobhan studied her for a long moment before nodding decisively. "Well, that's that then, girl. You'll be staying with me for a while."  
  
Aoife narrowed her eyes and glanced around the small cabin. The room they sat in held the two tables, as well as a wall full of shelves that were overstuffed with what appeared to be cooking items - pots, pans, and various ingredients. There were two doors that lead off from the main area, to what she assumed were bedrooms, and she'd seen the washtub and outhouse just off to the side of the house as she approached.  
  
"Me?" She asked, gearing up to argue as she glanced back to Siobhan. Siobhan laughed again.  
  
"Do you see anyone else in here aside from us?" She asked. Aoife shook her head, opening her mouth to argue, when Siobhan silenced her with a knowing look. "Have you anywhere else to be?" She asked, and her rough voice sounded almost sweet. Aoife shook her head slowly and Siobhan grinned.  
  
"Then I guess you'll be staying here with me."  
  
Aoife was quiet for another long moment before she sighed heavily.  
  
"I guess I am." She said slowly. Siobhan laughed again, loud and crackling in the small space.  
  
And that was how Aoife found herself bullied into helping Siobhan around the house, and somehow, feeling all that much better for it.

 

* * *

 

*Siobhan (pronounced "shiv-awn")


	11. eleven - Cloudreach 9:33 Dragon - Cloudreach 9:36 Dragon

**Eleven. Cloudreach 9:33 Dragon - Cloudreach 9:36 Dragon**

 

In the three years that she spent with Siobhan, Aoife learned many things.  
  
She learned how to play, and then cheat at, cards. She learned how to make seventeen kinds of stew and twenty-three types of bread. She learned how to read and write, both in Common and Elvhen, and Siobhan even managed to teach her to read and speak Orlesian passably.  
  
She also learned that Siobhan _was_ a madwoman, but a madwoman with the gift of seeing glimpses of the future.  
  
"I saw you coming," she told Aoife, about a week into her stay. Aoife had been struggling with a pastry dough and met Siobhan's stare with an exasperated sigh.  
  
"You what?" She asked, exhausted. Siobhan elbowed her out of the way and took over the nearly-ruined dough.  
  
"I saw you coming. Angry and hurt, with a soul as big as the sky. When I saw you on the hill I knew it was you before you ever opened your mouth." Aoife watched Siobhan knead the dough with a furrowed brow.  
  
"You're telling me that you can see the future?" She asked, incredulous. Siobhan laughed.  
  
"Of course not girl, don't be ridiculous. I said I saw you coming." Siobhan returned her attention to the dough in front of her. Aoife opened her mouth to ask another question when Siobhan waved a flour-covered hand at her. "Go dig up the potatoes from the west end of the garden. This dough's been through enough at your hands." And she shooed her from the hut.  
  
About a year into her stay, Siobhan asked her what made her leave her clan. She was standing over a large stewpot that was starting to smell delicious. Aoife haltingly made her way through the story of Talagan's death and her subsequent mourning period, ending with Tomas' encouragement to go out and find what made her happy.  
  
"And? Have you found it?" Siobhan asked. Aoife frowned slightly and shrugged.  
  
"I don't know. I don't know if I can. Talagan was . . .everything." She said. Siobhan grunted in response and Aoife returned her attention to the bread she was working together. Things were quiet in the small hut for a long moment before Aoife spoke again.  
  
"It's just . . .she should have spoken out, or done something. She should have waited." Aoife was far enough away from the day that the tears didn't come when she talked about it, but she felt the hot burn of them in her throat. Siobhan never stopped stirring the stewpot.  
  
"Why?" She asked, and her voice was gruffer than usual. Aoife bristled and looked up from her dough.  
  
"She knew how much he meant to me, Siobhan. She knew what it would do to me to find him gone." Aoife answered righteously. Siobhan turned just slightly and fixed her good eye on Aoife.  
  
"And are you the only one who loved him? Are you the only one who mattered? I didn't know that your clan revolved around you, girl." Siobhan asked lightly. The words stung, and Aoife flinched.  
  
"Well, of course not. Of course there were other people who loved him. He didn't meet anyone who didn't end up loving him." Aoife said, turning her attention back to the dough in front of her. "But he was the only one who loved me." She added, pounding the bread harder than strictly necessary. Siobhan shrugged and turned back to the stew bubbling away in front of her.  
  
"If that's what you think girl, then she's not the one who needs your forgiveness at all."  
  
Aoife thought about those words late into the night, and wondered if maybe it was time to forgive Deshanna after all.  
  
And then, one windy morning in 9:36, Siobhan died.  
  
"Don't you dare cry for me, girl. I don't need your tears. And don't you sit up to watch me die. I expect you to be more than this." Siobhan whispered the night before, before a weak cough rattled in her throat. She met Aoife's eyes in a firm stare.  
  
"I won't cry." Aoife promised. Her voice was soft and she took Siobhan's hand in her own. "I won't wait up."  
  
And she didn't. When she woke the next morning to find that Siobhan had died in the night, she didn't cry. She had known the old woman wouldn't live much longer soon after she'd met her. Siobhan smoked and drank too much, and she'd been sickly as a child, and the last winter had been particularly hard on her. But it still ached.  
  
Aoife burned her body in accordance with Siobhan's wishes, and buried her ashes in the North corner of her garden.  
  
" _Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light. And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost. I am not alone. Even as I stumble on the path with my eyes closed, yet I see, the Light is here. Draw your last breath, my friends. Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky. Rest at the Maker's right hand, and be Forgiven.*_ " Aoife read Siobhan's favorite verse from the Chant of Light softly. She sat by the gravesite for a long time after before she finally dragged herself to her feet.  
  
"May Falon'din guide you to rest, _ma falon_. _Dareth shiral_."  
  
And then she left Crestwood with another hole in her heart. She hadn't thought there would be room left for another one, not after Talagan.  
  
But there was, after all.

 

* * *

 

* Chant of Light, Canticle of Trials 1:14


	12. twelve - Bloomingtide 9:36 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Why can't I go that way?"
> 
> "Oh, I didn't mean to say that you couldn't, only that I didn't think it'd be all that safe. There's been a lot of muggings in that area, and elves are often hurt or killed if they're left on their own. Not that I think you couldn't take care of yourself, of course you could, it's just that there was always someone around to tell me when I was about to get myself into trouble and I thought I could pay that care forward. Oh, not that you need me to take care of you, you might have known where you were going -"
> 
> "I thank you, lethallan."

**Twelve. Bloomingtide 9:36 Dragon**

 

Aoife was surprised to learn just how much of travelling was actually waiting.  
  
Waiting for a caravan willing to carry an elf along. Waiting on a storm to move through so the roads were clear. Waiting for a tavern to serve an elf at a fair price. An abundance of waiting. Aoife got very, very used to waiting.  
  
It was as she stood at the harbor, waiting on a boat to take her to Kirkwall, that she wondered if she was supposed to be homesick. Most of the travellers she'd met had been one kind of homesick or another. She'd heard so may stories about far off towns and places she'd never be able to see in her lifetime. Every time someone told her a story they all spoke about home with a soft tone of regret. Like they'd just been waiting for someone to ask about their home, so they could return there for just a moment. Even if it was just in their memories.  
  
Aoife never spoke to anyone about her home. No more than any other elf had that she'd met on the road. It was clear from her  _ vallaslin _ that she was Dalish. Her accent made it even clearer that she was from the Free Marches. Most people didn't care enough to ask any elf anything further about their home.  
  
If they had, she thought slowly, she might have told them about Talagan. The way that she could still remember the sound of his voice some seven years after he was gone. She might have talked about Tomas and his children, Mikhail and Irenna and little Jonas. She might have talked about Deshanna and the way she'd always tried to protect Aoife from the rest of the clan as best as she could. She might have talked about Siobhan, even. The old woman had the best stories to tell and a laugh like stones tumbling together, and her loss was still fresh and sore in Aoife's mind.  
  
As she finally boarded the boat, she thought she might have been homesick after all. Only, her home had never been in a single place. It had lived in all of them.  
  
It took the ship two weeks to get to Kirkwall, and when Aoife finally spilled out of the stinking vessel she'd never been so happy to see the grimy city docks of Kirkwall. There was an insistent sort of hustle and bustle everywhere, and she was quickly lost in the crowd of people pushing into the city proper.  
  
She spent a long moment staring down the narrow, dusty streets before she shrugged her shoulders and set off in one direction. She'd only made it a few steps when she was stopped by a tap on her shoulder.  
  
"Oh, wait! Excuse me, but. I don't think you want to go that direction!" Came a sweet voice off to Aoife's right. Aoife glanced over her shoulder and met the wide, bright eyes of another Dalish elf. "Oh! I was right, you are Dalish! Your  _ vallaslin _ are lovely, I've never seen them so pale."  
  
The strange elf reached out a hand as if to trace along Aoife's  _ vallaslin _ before snatching it back with a short laugh.   
  
"My apologies,  _ lethallan _ . Hawke keeps telling me I can't just go around touching people as I like. But they really are very lovely. And I'm rambling.  _ Ir abelas, lethallan _ . My name is Merrill." Merrill smiled widely at her. Aoife studied the elf in front of her warily.  
  
Her short, black hair was tucked neatly behind her ears, although a heavy fringe was beginning to slip out from behind one side. Her eyes were a bright shade of gold, almost the color of whiskey, and the wide smile on her face was almost shy. Her  _ vallaslin _ were unlike any that Aoife had ever seen before, and it curled and twisted around her eyes like vines. She was about the same height as Aoife, so neither was left looking up at the other. She seemed to be waiting very patiently for Aoife to return her greeting.  
  
"My name is Aoife." She said, finally. Merrill sighed in what seemed like relief.  
  
"That's such a lovely name, Aoife. DId you know that it means radiant? And there's a legend about a warrior princess with the same name! The legends say she was a great beauty, even on the battlefield! Oh, but you must know that already, sorry." Merrill gushed. Aoife nodded slowly before nodding back in the direction she was heading.  
  
"Why can't I go that way?" She asked. Merrill's eyes grew wide.  
  
"Oh, I didn't mean to say that you couldn't, only I didn't think it'd be all that safe. There's been a lot of muggings in that area, and elves are often hurt or killed if they're left on their own. Not that I think you couldn't take care of yourself, of course you could, it's just that there was always someone around to tell me when I was about to get myself in trouble and I thought I could pay that care forward. Oh, not that you need me to take care of you, it just seemed as though you didn't know where you were going. Oh, well of course, you might have known where you were going -" Aoife held up a hand to stop Merrill's rant from growing any larger. She smiled gently at the woman.  
  
"I thank you,  _ lethallan _ . I do not know where I am going. I only just arrived." Aoife said, easing Merrill's concerns. Merrill's shoulders relaxed and she smiled gratefully at Aoife.  
  
"Oh, well. Of course. Do you have somewhere to stay?" Merrill asked. Aoife shook her head.  
  
"No. Like I said, I've only just arrived in the city. Do you have somewhere in mind?" Aoife answered. Almost before she'd finished speaking, Merrill was nodding enthusiastically.  
  
"Of course! You can stay with me! Nowhere in Kirkwall is really  _ safe _ for an elf, but we do all right when we're together! It might not be ideal, but at least you won't get stopped every time you're trying to return to your rooms. And the guards are mostly content to leave us alone as long as we're not hanging around Hightown. And after you get settled in, I can take you to meet some of my friends! They're all really wonderful people, and I think you'll get along so well. Fenris can be a little grumpy sometimes, but he's off with Hawke right now. But Isabela is around! And she's so lovely, you'll just love her." Merrill talked nearly as fast as she walked, and Aoife was nearly running to keep up with her as they moved through the alleys. She noticed more than once a suspicious person catching sight of Merrill before moving swiftly away.  
  
"Merrill, Merrill, wait!" Aoife said, catching up to the other woman. Merrill skidded to a stop in front of Aoife.  
  
"Yes?" She asked, her eyes wide with confusion. Aoife laughed a little.  
  
"I haven't said I'll stay with you." Aoife pointed out. "And I don't really know you, yet. You're very kind, and I appreciate your advice, but I'd hate to intrude. And as long as I keep my hair down, most people don't notice I'm anything other than another dirty peasant." Aoife pointed at where her long pale hair hid the sharp tips of her ears. Merrill almost visibly drooped.  
  
"Oh, well. I suppose you're right. Well, you can't stay at any of the inns in Hightown, even if you've got enough coin for it. There's a few in Lowtown that are alright though." She frowned for a moment as though thinking. "Here, follow me this way." Merrill said, and then she was off again. Aoife followed Merrill through the twists of Kirkwall's Lowtown. When she finally stopped walking, it was in front of a dingy wooden door. A heavy sign hanging above the door proclaimed the building to be The Hanged Man, and Aoife eyed it warily. Merrill motioned to the door with a bright smile.  
  
"Here you go!" Merrill said. Aoife glanced between Merrill and the building.  
  
"And you're sure this place is alright?" She asked. Merrill nodded enthusiastically.  
  
"Oh of course! And all my dearest friends are always there. If you tell them you're with Hawke, no one will bother you. Well they might still bother you, but they'll think hard about it before they do. Well they might not, also. Actually you might get yourself into a lot of trouble if you tell them you're with Hawke, but maybe if you say you're friends with me they'll leave you alone. No one ever troubles me much when I'm there! And the rooms aren't suddenly more expensive for an elf than they are for a human. They treat everyone the same as long as they've got the coin for it. And I can come and visit you! As long as Hawke doesn't need me. But if he does, I'll still check on you and make sure you're doing alright. If that's okay with you?" Merrill suddenly seemed shy. Aoife got the impression that she didn't have very many female friends. Aoife gave her a soft smile.  
  
"That would be lovely, thank you Merrill. I'd be happy to speak with you again sometime soon, as long as you're not busy." She promised. Merrill practically glowed, her smile was so bright. She waved goodbye to Aoife and left her standing in front of The Hanged Man.  
  
"Well, here we go." Aoife sighed, and she pushed open the door.


	13. thirteen - Bloomingtide 9:36 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You might want to change your clothes, if you're looking to escape notice."
> 
> "What makes you think I'm trying to escape notice?"
> 
> "No one drinks here without hiding from something."

**Thirteen. Bloomingtide 9:36 Dragon**

 

The barman had been dismissive, but only in the way that it seemed he was dismissive of everyone. He'd still taken her coin easily and given her a mug of cheap ale. She'd made short work of it and he'd refilled her mug with barely a second glance.  
  
"You might want to change your clothes, if you're looking to escape notice."  
  
The slightly amused voice came from somewhere off to her left. Aoife turned to look toward a cleared corner of the bar that she hadn't paid much attention to when she'd come in. In it sat the nicest looking dwarf she'd ever seen, holding court in a corner of what was probably the shittiest bar she'd ever drank in.  
  
Aoife glanced around the bar again to make sure she was the one being addressed before she slipped off of the tall stool she'd been sitting on.  
  
"What makes you think I'm trying to escape notice?" She asked. The dwarf's eyes lit up and his grin sharpened.  
  
"No one drinks here without hiding from something." He answered enigmatically.  
  
Aoife glanced down at herself. The leggings she wore were a soft white color, made of nugskin and very warm. Her tunic was a deep green of rough-hewn cotton that she'd spun and woven herself, and she wore a leather coat over both of them that she'd picked up on the edge of Crestwood. Overtop all of that was a black hooded cloak that was travel-worn and had definitely seen better days. She turned back to the dwarf in the dim corner.  
  
"I'm not exactly sure what's wrong with my outfit, sir. If you'd be so kind as to explain, I'd be more than happy to consider it." She said, her tone as dry as the papers spread out in front of him. He grinned slowly before pointing at the chair beside him.  
  
"They're too clean, for a start. You can't drink in a bar like this and look like you've actually seen a bath somewhere before." He told her fondly, waving his hands out in a broad gesture that encompassed the entire bar behind her as he watched her sit gently in the chair beside him.  
  
"If you don't mind my saying you, you don't seem to be following your own advice." Aoife observed, pointedly taking in his fine outfit. He grinned again, gesturing once more to the bar behind her.  
  
"What, and deprive you all of this glorious chest hair? No, this is my tiny kingdom, Twist, and I should dress for the part." He gave her another grin and motioned for another drink to be brought. When it came, she sipped at it. It was better than the one she'd been drinking before, but still much less lethal than the ale that Siobhan brewed. When she had drank half of it in companionable silence, he introduced himself.  
  
"Varric Tethras, at your service, Twist." He told her, winking roguishly. Aoife felt herself flush, but whether that was from the dwarf's charm or her third shitty beer on an empty stomach, she couldn't quite tell.  
  
"Aoife Lavellan, at yours." She took another long drink from her mug. " _ The _ Varric Tethras?" She asked. If possible, his grin grew even more smug.  
  
"That depends entirely on what you've heard." He hedged, but his grin was still firmly in place. Aoife took another swig from her mug.  
  
"I've read some of your books. That's how I learned to read, actually. It was quite informative." Aoife answered. Varric laughed heartily.  
  
"Oh, that's wonderful, Twist. Which ones?" He asked, leaning a little closer. Aoife's brow furrowed as she thought.  
  
"Hmm. Siobhan liked  _ The Viper's Nest _ a lot. And  _ Swords & Shields _ . But the first one I read was  _ The Dasher's Men _ ." Aoife said, staring off into the middle distance and thinking. Siobhan had sat her down in front of the fire, about three months into her stay, and shoved The Dasher's Men into her hands.  
  
" _ Can't have you not knowing how to read. We start with this. _ " Siobhan had said. Aoife had struggled with it so much at first, but she still remembered the pride she felt when she read the first page all by herself.  
  
"No shit, you've read that one? Not many people know The Dasher's Men." He said, studying her. Aoife shrugged.  
  
"Siobhan said she'd picked it up somewhere, and she thought it was a sin to get rid of books.  _ All books are important, girl. Even the strange ones. _ She told me." Aoife took another swallow from her mug and met Varric's eyes. "She liked your writing a lot, even if she didn't like to admit to liking anything. I think they gave her a lot of comfort at the end." Aoife shrugged.  
  
"Well I'll be damned. I didn't think anyone still knew about that piece. Thanks for telling me, Twist." He said, and some of the charming persona had slipped. She thought he might have really appreciated hearing it. Aoife furrowed her brow.  
  
"Why are you calling me Twist?" She asked. Varric shrugged, turning his attention back to the papers in front of him.  
  
"It fits." He answered, rather noncommittally. Aoife eyed him for a moment before shrugging as well.  
  
"I suppose." She finished her drink and made to stand. "Well, it was lovely meeting you Master Tethras, but I need to find a place to stay." Varric reached out and rested a hand on her arm.  
  
"Or, you could sit back down and tell me your stories. In exchange, I'll put you up in a room here." He offered. His grin was still lethal in its attractiveness. Aoife stared back at him for a long moment.  
  
"What makes you think I have any stories worth telling?" Aoife asked softly, sitting back down. Varric smiled.  
  
"All stories are worth the telling if you have a captive audience, Twist. And few audiences are quite so attentive as me." He said, his voice sure. Aoife rolled her eyes.  
  
"I'm just an elf, sir." She said tiredly. Varric shook his head.  
  
"A Dalish elf, with coin, and dressed neat and clean. You speak without hesitation, you don't seem inclined to hide your heritage, and you look people in the eye when they speak to you. That's a twist in the story if I've ever seen one." His eyes travelled slowly over her face. "And you look like someone who has been very sad and lived to tell the tale." Aoife cleared her throat.  
  
"That's very astute of you to say." She narrowed her eyes as she looked at him. "What makes you think I want to tell my stories?" Varric shrugged then, motioning for the barman to bring another drink for them both.  
  
"You're still here, aren't you?" He asked. Aoife glanced around the nearly empty bar and sighed.  
  
"I suppose." She took the drink the barman handed to her. "But I'm going to need something to eat soon. And a lot more of this." Varric waved to the barman again, some kind of signal to bring food and keep the drinks coming, before his grin grew wide across his face.  
  
"Now, start at the beginning."  
  
When she got falling down drunk - which was a heroic effort on Varric's part, and cost him quite a bit of coin - he made good on his word and put her up in a room for the week. She talked with Merrill again, even spent some time wandering Lowtown with her, and met another of her friends named Isabela.  
  
Isabela had looked at her like she wanted to eat Aoife right up - and it had been difficult for her to resist. Aoife hadn't really wanted to tumble any of Merrill's friends, no matter how 'no strings attached' Isabela was offering, and instead they spent an entire night teasing Merrill into a bright red blush.  
  
She never met this Hawke that Merrill, Varric and Isabela all spoke of with such fondness, but she made them all a promise that if she ever found her way back to Kirkwall, she'd let them all know.  
  
When she left, headed toward Ostwick and the hope of something different, it was with a wide grin and an easier heart than she'd had in a long time.  
  
Kirkwall may have been lacking in many things - like decency, clean towels, bars that didn't make your teeth feel greasy just by looking at them, and Templars that didn't immediately set off your crazy person standards - but meeting  _ the _ Varric Tethras and a few of his rowdy friends had certainly made up for a lot of them.


	14. fourteen - 9:37 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I love stew. Stew is great."
> 
> "I have yet to see you turn down food of any kind."

**Fourteen. 9:37 Dragon - Post-Mage Rebellion**

 

Aoife met the Champion of Kirkwall only after the mage rebellion had occurred, and then, quite by accident.  
  
She had been wandering the market square of a town in the south of Starkhaven whose name she couldn't correctly pronounce when she bumped into a tall, bearded man carrying a staff and doing his best to look inconspicuous.  
  
Aoife had been distracted by the people in the square. There was some sort of festival happening, and there were dancers and people carrying on joyously. She'd been so distracted by them that she hadn't noticed him - which, upon later reflection she wasn't sure how she'd missed him, as he was the single least inconspicuous human she had ever met in her life - and ended up sprawled on her butt in the middle of the path. Aoife stared up at him, shocked quiet, and he tugged her up with one hand like she weighed nothing.  
  
"Sorry, sorry. I didn't see you there." He said, grinning widely at her. Despite the fact that his famous blood swipe wasn't streaked across his face, after meeting Varric and the others, she'd have recognized him anywhere.  
  
"It's you, isn't it?" She asked softly. The man stiffened almost unnoticeably. The handsome, white haired elf standing just behind Garrett Hawke grimaced.  
  
"Of _course_ someone recognized you, you clumsy man." He grumbled, low enough that most wouldn't have heard it.  
  
"I don't know what you mean." Hawke said airily, but his voice was strained. Aoife glanced between the two men and the protective way they stood beside one another. She grinned widely.  
  
"Of course, of course. My mistake. Allow me to invite you to dinner where I'm staying, as an apology." She offered them. The glance the two of them shared was wary, but as they were beginning to draw a crowd from the way they were blocking the street, they agreed in the spirit of keeping things quiet.  
  
When they showed up that evening at the door of the small hut Aoife was staying in, she was quietly relieved.  
  
"You could have just left." She said, once they were seated inside. Hawke and Fenris shared a glance before Hawke spoke.  
  
"We thought about it." He hedged. Aoife smiled understandingly.  
  
"Of course." She answered. The three of them sat in an awkward silence for another long moment before Aoife sprang into action. "Well, I hope you both like stew, as it's the only thing I can reliably cook. Also, my name is Aoife. No need to ask yours, I suppose." Aoife said brightly. She glanced over her shoulder to see Hawke visibly unwind.  
  
"I love stew. Stew is great." He leapt onto the conversation starter like a drowning man finding land. Fenris rolled his eyes, but he relaxed into an easy slouch on the floor near the fire.  
  
"I have yet to see you turn down food of any kind." He drawled. Aoife laughed as she stirred.  
  
"Well, I've attempted to make other things. But as I said, stew is the only thing I can make without the potential for disaster. Siobhan despaired of me." Aoife said. There was a twinge in her heart when she mentioned Siobhan, but not talking about the crazy old woman seemed like such a loss. Hawke shuffled closer.  
  
"Who's Siobhan?" Hawke asked, reaching out to sneak a taste from the bubbling pot. Aoife smacked at his hand with her spoon.  
  
"Siobhan was . . . sort of like a teacher, I guess. And a friend." Aoife returned to stirring the stew. "She taught me how to cook. Well, mostly." Fenris made a soft noise behind her.  
  
"Was?" He asked. Aoife smiled down at the stew.  
  
"She died. Last year." She met his eyes for a moment before turning back to the task at hand. "But there's no room in here for sad things. And don't think I don't see you trying to sneak a taste, young man!" Aoife threatened. Hawke grinned sheepishly and she heard Fenris sigh out something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.  
  
"Would you like to tell us about her?" Hawke asked, and his voice was very kind. Aoife was glad she had the stewpot bubbling away in front of her so she didn't have to meet his eyes.  
  
"Siobhan was . . . crazy. Like, I mean absolutely crazy. The first time I met her she yelled at me from the bottom of a hill, made me carry all of her things, and scared me into staying with her." She grinned at the stew before flashing them both a quick smile. "It was the best three years of my life to date." She reached behind her to grab the bowls sitting on the low table. She portioned out stew for each of them before pulling the bread off the fire.  
  
When the meal was set before them all, and Fenris and Hawke were eating with gusto, Aoife spoke again.  
  
"She had a laugh that sounded like stones when they tumble together down a hill, and she knew how to cheat at any game you set in front of her. I don't think I ever beat her once. She had visions, and if you paid the right price she'd share them with you. Sometimes the price was a few hours labor in her garden, sometimes it was money. Sometimes it was things like the naming of their first child, or the memories of their grandfather. I don't really know how it all worked. And it was hard to tell how much of it was real and how much was just her messing with you. That was especially true if you were rude about asking." Aoife grinned down at the bowl in front of her.  
  
"Did she ever have any visions of you?" Fenris asked. Aoife shrugged.  
  
"One or two. She never told me much about them. Said she saw me coming months before she ever met me. I don't know if that's true or not, but it's nice to think that someone was waiting for me." She said. Hawke frowned.  
  
"Do you not have anyone else?" He asked. Aoife shrugged again.  
  
"I suppose I have my clan. But we didn't part on the best of terms. There are others that would take me in if I wanted them to. But it's not so bad, travelling. I'm barely Dalish in practice, and most people don't look too much farther than a pair of pointed ears, so it's easy enough to slip around when I need to. Besides, what good would all the tricks Siobhan taught me be if I didn't wander?" She asked. She finished off her stew and gave Hawke and Fenris both a second helping.  
  
"Now, I think that's just about enough of sad things for one evening. Tell me something you've seen on your travels." She prompted. Hawke lit up with a grin.  
  
They spent the rest of the night laughing, and Aoife watched the two of them unwind even further. She didn't ask them all the questions she knew they wouldn't, or couldn't, answer - like,  __ what really happened in Kirkwall? DId you really fight the Arishok? Did he really ask for Isabela's life? Where is the mage who blew up the Chantry? Is it true you were really friends? Why are you here and not in Kirkwall?  
  
Aoife offered to share her small hut with them for the evening, and they agreed. When they parted ways the next morning, Aoife didn't find it so hard to believe that the kind, bearded man who had laughed at each of her progressively more terrible jokes could command a rebellion. She'd seen it all in Fenris's eyes and the way he looked at Hawke.  
  
She watched them go with a smile, fond enough that it made her heart ache for home, just a little bit.


	15. fifteen - Drakonis 9:38 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And now drink it, kit, to your good health."
> 
> "Why? What's in it?"
> 
> "Ale, the last time I checked."

**Fifteen. Drakonis 9:38 Dragon**

 

After some trial and error - and a few detours through Wycome that she hadn't anticipated - Aoife found herself in the bustling port of Antiva City.  
  
It was something of a novelty to be somewhere where people found her freckled skin and pale markings exotic. Mostly it was annoying whenever someone stopped to stare at her, but it occasionally paid the bills.  
  
She had been supporting herself for some time off carved 'Dalish' trinkets and repairing weapons for the scattered mercenary houses, and she'd earned enough coin to treat herself for one night.  
  
She'd just walked into the least seedy bar on the grimy stretch of shops that lined the docks when there was a smooth voice in her ear.  
  
"Hold this," Aoife heard, and she turned just the slightest to her right. She was a long way gone from the scared and angry elf that had left her clan some eight years beforehand, but when she met the eyes of the slender human speaking to her, she felt very young again for reasons she couldn't quite put into words.  
  
Aoife took the mug from them, mostly because they had shoved it into her hands and it was either hold on or spill ale all down her nicest set of clothing. They grinned at her then, grey eyes bright and sparkling, with a grin sharp enough to cut the finest lace without a snag. Aoife felt as though she'd been out maneuvered, although she couldn't put her finger on why. The human in front of her took a large drink from their own mug before motioning to the one still clasped between Aoife's hands.  
  
"And now drink it, kit, to your good health." The human smiled at Aoife in a way that might have been disarming if she hadn't been on high alert.  
  
"Why? What's in it?" She asked, staring down into the mug quickly. The human in front of her laughed.  
  
"Ale, the last time I checked." They answered. Their voice was smooth and warm with laughter. Aoife narrowed her eyes at them.  
  
"And why should I trust that you haven't done something to it?" She asked. The human laughed again.  
  
"Why should I drug you?" They asked. Aoife narrowed her eyes again.  
  
"You're a stranger. And I'm an elf." She answered.  
  
"And a self-aware one, I see." The human responded, still laughing. Aoife sighed deeply.  
  
"Look, I'm in no mood for -" The human cut her off by snagging the mug out of her hands and taking a drink. They made a pointed show of swallowing and waiting for a moment.  
  
"There, now you've no reason not to trust it, kit." They said brightly, passing the mug back to her. She took it reluctantly. "And my name is Valen. Now we're not strangers." Aoife watched Valen warily for a moment longer before taking a slow sip from the mug in her hands. Valen's grin grew wider.  
  
"Why did you buy me a drink?"  Aoife asked. Valen motioned to a small table tucked into a corner of the busy bar and Aoife followed. They let Aoife sit with her back to the corner while they pulled a chair close to her left side.  
  
"You look like someone who needs a friend." They said magnanimously. Aoife snorted and took another drink.  
  
"I don't  _ need _ anyone." Aoife argued. Valen studied her before shrugging.  
  
"Maybe  _ I _ do." They said. They took another drink from their mug. "I've heard about you." Aoife pursed her lips and studied them.  
  
The human was dressed incredibly well. Their outfit was liberally embroidered with thread that faintly sparkled in the dim light of the bar, and she could tell from the way it shifted as they moved that the fabric of their tunic was fine Royale Sea Silk. Their vest and pants were made from a dark tanned leather that looked very supple and was probably worth more money than Aoife had ever had. She could see the glint of silvery buckles on their boots as they shifted in their chair. Aoife very pointedly drew her gaze back to theirs.    
  
"Oh?" Aoife said, raising an eyebrow. Valen grinned.  
  
"All good things, I assure you." They promised. Aoife nodded slowly, eyebrow still raised.  
  
"Uh huh. From who?" She asked. Valen shrugged.  
  
"Oh, you know. People." Valen answered. They shrugged again when Aoife frowned at them. "The sort of people who don't like their business advertised, kit." Valen added. Aoife sighed and sat back in her chair.  
  
"And what have you heard?" She asked. Valen's grin grew sharp-edged and dangerous.   
  
"That you're good." Valen answered, nodding at Aoife. They took another sip from their mug before leaning closer to Aoife. "But you could be  _ great _ , kit."  
  
Aoife tilted her head, considering the human at her side. She glanced around the bar for a moment, taking note of her surroundings. No one was paying anyone any attention in the bar, but she knew that appearances were always deceiving. She turned her attention back to Valen.  
  
"And what does greatness cost?" She asked quietly. Valen's grin turned positively lethal.  
  
"Time, kit. All I need is your time." They said. Aoife glanced back down at her mug before shrugging her shoulders. She drained the rest of the mug in one long swallow and slammed it back down on the table in front of her.  
  
"Why not? I got loads of that." She answered. Valen laughed brightly and motioned for another drink for them both.  
  
"Excellent, kit. Simply excellent." They grinned.  
  
And that was that.


	16. sixteen - Drakonis 9:38 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't fall asleep on me, kit. We've got things to do after this. That noble won't stab himself." They began, before pausing to think. "Well, actually, given the right incentive he just might. But that's not the point."

**Sixteen. Drakonis 9:38 Dragon**

 

Aoife hadn't lied when she'd met Valen. She hadn't _needed_ anyone. She had been providing for herself in Antiva City for nearly two months before Valen hunted her down. She'd made a few contacts and met just enough people that she was capable of supporting herself for a reasonable price. She mentioned this the first time the human barged into her sparse flat, merely a week after their meeting in the bar.  
  
"Please, make yourself at home." Aoife said dryly as Valen brushed past them. Valen sighed delightedly.  
  
"Don't mind if I do." They said, making a slow circle around the small living space. "You're _living_ here?" Valen asked, very quietly disgusted. Aoife narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.  
  
"Yes." She said shortly. "I've been providing for myself all this time." She pointed out.  
  
" _Surviving_ isn't the same as _living_ , kit." Valen said, waving a pale hand in her direction. Aoife scoffed and turned toward the small kitchen area.  
  
"Would you like tea?" Aoife asked, pulling the warm kettle off the fire and reaching for two of her nicest mugs. One had a chip in the handle and the other had a hairline break that she'd managed to glue back together. She set the one with the chipped handle closer to Valen. Valen hummed an affirmative and watched Aoife for a long moment before clearing their throat. Aoife glanced over her shoulder just in time to see them sigh heavily.  
  
"Very well, I've decided. I couldn't do anything less, so you can thank me later, kit." Valen announced, crossing the small space to enclose Aoife in a tight hug. Aoife endured it for a moment before shifting out of their hold and staring at them suspiciously.  
  
"You've decided what, exactly?" Aoife asked, pouring them both a cup of tea. Valen took theirs and smiled magnanimously at Aoife.  
  
"Why, you're my new project of course." They took a sip of their tea and beamed. "Oh kit, you're going to be _magnificent_ ." Valen breathed. Aoife bristled at the implication that she wasn't _already_ magnificent, but when Valen showed up two days later and practically frog-marched her to their much, much nicer flat in the higher part of the city, Aoife complied with rather little fighting.  
  
After all, she hadn't really _needed_ Valen to come and rescue her from squalor. She'd been managing just fine on her own, but . . . it was nice. It was nice to have a friend again, after everything she'd lost and all the lonely miles in between. It was nice to have someone nagging her to eat, or laughing at her stories and mishaps. It was nice to have someone to wait up for, and someone to drag her into social gatherings. It was nice to have someone who _cared_ .  
  
"How long has it been since someone took care of you, kit?" Valen asked her one night. Aoife was seated on the floor in front of Valen's chair, trying not to fall asleep while they braided her hair.  
  
"I guess that depends on what you mean by took care of." Aoife mumbled, leaning back against Valen's knees and stifling a yawn. Valen reached out and tweaked the tip of Aoife's right ear, ignoring the sharp yelp she made in response.  
  
"Don't fall asleep on me, kit. We've got things to do after this. That noble won't stab himself." Valen began, before pausing to think. "Well, actually, given the right incentive he just might. But that's not the point." They said.  
  
Valen spent another few minutes braiding Aoife's pale hair out of her face before speaking again.  
  
"How long has it been since someone braided your hair for you?" Valen asked. Aoife shrugged.  
  
"No one has braided it since Talagan. So, I guess that's nine years?" Aoife answered softly. Valen paused just long enough to scoop up some bright green beads they had bought for her and squeeze Aoife's shoulder.  
  
"Well, you're rather sloppy at it. From now on, I'll take care of it for you. It's really the best for the both of us, kit, you understand. If your hair gets in the way while you're trying to sneak about after doing something naughty, you'll get us both killed. And I find I rather like being alive." Valen said nonchalantly, threading the green beads into Aoife's hair with ease. Aoife laughed softly and reached up to squeeze Valen's knee.  
  
"Thank you." Aoife said. Valen stilled in their actions and Aoife felt them drop one hand onto their head in a fond pat. They sat in soft silence for another moment before Aoife cleared her throat. "For all of it, Valen. Thanks." She whispered. Valen only hummed in response.  
  
And it was _nice_. Valen made her laugh and took care of her with loudly-voiced complaints to cover up the fact that they cared enough to make sure she was fed and clothed. So Aoife let Valen push and prod her around, and if she picked up a few useful skills along the way - proper lock-picking, playing the flute and the lyre with relative skill, and how to slit a man's throat without getting a drop of blood on her outfit - well, who was to know besides her?


	17. seventeen - Kingsway 9:39 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I thought you didn't believe in her visions."
> 
> Aoife shook her head. "It's not that. It always upset Siobhan when she thought about it afterwards, so I never asked her anything about it either"
> 
> "If this is because of my leaving . . ."

**Seventeen. Kingsway 9:39 Dragon**

 

Aoife spent nearly a year and a half laughing at things and killing people with Valen. And after all of those shared days and nights, Valen would be going their own way for a time.  
  
" _ Off to adventure soon, kit. _ " Valen had said, suddenly, a few weeks beforehand. Aoife had been washing a mug in the kitchen and had been glad for the distraction when her eyes grew suddenly blurry with tears. She had blinked them back quickly.  
  
" _ Oh _ ?" Aoife answered, focusing on the mug in her hands. " _ And where is this adventure taking you? _ " Valen was staring at her, she could feel their eyes on her shoulders waiting for her to turn around, but after a long moment they answered her regardless.  
  
" _ First, I've some business in Rivain. I'll be taking a boat from here to Dairsmuid. After that, I've got some errands up the Tevinter coast before arriving in Minrathous. _ " Valen said softly. Aoife finished cleaning the mug and rinsed her hands. She dried them carefully on a short towel, giving herself time to compose herself, before she turned around to face Valen. They were leaning against the table in the middle of the room and watching her carefully. Aoife sighed gently.  
  
" _ Are you leaving for good? _ " She asked. Valen shook their head, crossing the short distance between them and taking Aoife's hands in her own.  
  
" _ Of course not, I love Antiva. There's nowhere else I'd rather call home. Plus, it does have the distinct advantage of housing my best project to date. _ " They said gently, ruffling Aoife's bangs. Aoife frowned.  
  
" _ I guess I'll need to find another place to stay while you're gone, then. _ " She said, her eyes on their joined hands. Valen scoffed.  
  
" _ Nonsense. You can join me, of course. You can always go where I go. Although I think you'll find that Tevinter isn't quite as lovely as Antiva, for somewhat obvious reasons. I'd be just as relieved to know you were here, keeping the flat for me and safely out of trouble. _ " Valen said, leaning down to catch Aoife's downcast eyes. They smiled softly. " _ I'll be back before you have time to miss me, kit. _ "   
  
Their voice was light and dismissive, but Aoife knew it was their way of protecting her. Valen was always protecting her.  
  
The following few weeks were a blur of preparations. The landlord for Valen's flat was a friend, and had no trouble with Aoife taking over the rent while Valen was gone. They had an 'all coin spends the same' policy that Aoife was grateful for. Valen had other preparations to take care of, and most of their days were spent sending Aoife to one end of town or the other with lists full of supplies and a pocketful of gold.  
  
She was settling down to bed two nights before Valen's departure when she remembered the vision. The memory was so vivid it was like she was back there in the moment it had taken place.  
  
Siobhan was seated at the low table. Aoife had pulled it outside for her a few days before, when Siobhan loudly mentioned how nice it might be to eat dinner while watching the sunset with lots of pointed staring and heavy sighs. The table was shaded from the sun by an overhang that Aoife had built a month or two beforehand, and it was deep enough to protect from most other bad weather as well. Siobhan sat there drinking from a large mug of her lethal homebrewed ale and mending a skirt. She had been yelling directions toward Aoife, trying to teach her to properly shear one of the rams without leaving the comfort of the shade, when she'd suddenly stopped mid-yell. Aoife had glanced back toward the cabin just in time to see Siobhan's mouth go slack and her eyes roll back into their sockets  
  
Aoife ran to her, concern eating away at her throat, and when she reached her, Siobhan gasped in a desperate, rickety breath.  
  
" _ There are days that will test you beyond your measure of strength _ ," she was saying, her hands clenched into tight fists in her lap, " _ and they are coming like ravens on the wind, Aoife of the Lavellans, you will lose and lose and lose and lose but you will gain, soul as big as the sky and a scar like flame, green and gasping and aching, you came into this world with fire and screaming and before you leave it you will face screaming and fire over and over and over. _ "  
  
Aoife jerked out of the memory with a short gasp. The sound was just enough to startle Valen, who had been busying themselves with packing in the other room.  
  
"What is it, what's happened?" They asked, slipping into the room nearly soundlessly. Aoife found herself gasping for air, swallowing down the hot sickness gathering at the base of her throat. Valen took their time searching the room for intruders.  
  
When Aoife could breathe again, and Valen was satisfied there was nothing actively trying to kill her, Aoife tried to answer.  
  
"Siobhan, the old woman I lived with in Crestwood? She had a vision about me once." Aoife swallowed thickly, reaching out for Valen's hand. Valen surrendered the appendage with little argument and slipped onto the bed beside her. They squeezed Aoife's hand tightly and frowned.  
  
"I thought you didn't believe in her visions." Valen said softly. Aoife shook her head.  
  
"It's not that. I never really gave them much thought, to be honest. It was always a gamble as to how much of what she saw was true and how much of it was that poison she brewed that she called ale, but . . . " Aoife trailed off, staring unseeingly at the wall in front of her. "I hadn't thought of this one in years. It always upset Siobhan when she thought about it afterwards, so I never asked her anything about it either." Valen was silent for a long moment before they spoke.  
  
"If this is because of my leaving . . ." They began, but Aoife didn't let them finish.  
  
"No, no. We've talked about this, and I'll be fine. I promise." They studied Aoife with those bright, wise eyes of theirs and nodded slowly.  
  
"Very well. Shall I stay here tonight then? I'm as packed as I'll ever be, and if I have forgotten something I'll simply write to you and send for it." Valen said, already slipping beneath Aoife's blankets. They were a warm weight at Aoife's side and she breathed deeply.  
  
After telling Valen about the vision, Aoife nearly forgot it again. The next two days passed just as quickly as the previous ones all had, and the morning of Valen's departure dawned grey and rainy.  
  
Aoife walked with Valen down to the docks, trying not to think about how lonely the flat was going to feel without them.  
  
"Remember, kit. Back before you have a chance to miss me." Valen winked, pressing a soft kiss into Aoife's cheek. Aoife rolled her eyes.  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Run off to do whatever it is you do without me. I'll be here when you get tired of terrorizing the Vints." Aoife waved Valen off with a smile that was valiantly fighting back tears. Valen winked again and walked into the ship, but Aoife thought their eyes were suspiciously misty.  
  
Valen made it onto the deck of the ship and found a place at the railing to wave goodbye.  
  
The ship had nearly made it clear of the docks when it exploded in front of her.  
  
She heard Siobhan's voice in her ears, long after the ringing in them had stopped.


	18. eighteen - Kingsway 9:39 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Now, remember, if something happens to me -"
> 
> "Yes, I know. I'm to leave Antiva behind me."
> 
> "And why is that?"
> 
> "Because friends are dangerous and you aren't my friend, so you're the only one not dangerous."

**Eighteen. Kingsway 9:39 Dragon**

 

There was screaming and fire. Aoife couldn't see through the smoke, couldn't hear anything past the shrill ring in her ears from the noise of the blast.  
  
She did her best to peer through the rolling waves of smoke, staring desperately into the wreckage that was once a full ship and half of a dock. She couldn't see anything but fire and broken wood and panicked people.  
  
She didn't know what had happened, whether it was an accident or something more, but elves didn't stick around disaster scenes.  
  
There wasn't a single person paying attention to her when she headed toward another boat that was just beginning to pull away from the harbor as fast as it could.   
  
Aoife slipped between two other elves that were sitting on the narrow bench seat in the back of the small boat. They gave her a once-over, but otherwise didn't react to her presence there. She had nothing but the clothes on her back - leather boots, hide leggings, tunic, leather vest, coat and travelling cloak - a little coin, and the set of very nice knives Valen had given her for her last Name Day. She rubbed the edge of an intricate handle with the tip of one finger as she stared out at the churning water.  
  
" _ They're very sharp, kit, so mind your fingers. And this isn't a gift, so much as it is a loan. I take care of my investments. _ " Valen had said, tone light and airy, but Aoife knew what the glimmer in Valen's grey eyes meant.  
  
Valen had cared about her, really cared, perhaps from the moment they'd met in that seedy bar. Aoife knew it, and she hadn't taken it for granted, either. She had lovingly cleaned and oiled those knives every time they'd been used, keeping their edges keen and her reflexes sharper. Valen had watched her with barely hidden pride.  
  
Aoife watched the harbor slip away, searching as surreptitiously as she could through the wreckage for some sign of Valen. When the small boat reached the ship it was destined for, she slipped below deck and found a small corner to barricade herself in and sort through her grief.  
  
Valen had always told her that if something ever happened to them, Antiva wouldn't be safe for her, either.  
  
" _ We've made lots of friends, kit. But friends are the most dangerous people to have. _ " Valen had said one night, their face very serious. " _ Only friends stand close enough to kill you to your face. _ " They explained. Aoife had frowned.  
  
" _ But aren't  _ we _ friends? _ " She asked, motioning between the two of them. Valen's grin was quicksilver fast.  
  
" _ No, kit. I am not your friend. _ " Valen answered, shaking their head. " _ I am something more. _ "  
  
" _ You're dramatic, is what you are. I can take care of myself, Valen. I'll be fine. I promise." _ Aoife insisted, shaking her head at Valen. Valen studied her for a long moment, mouth twisted like they were chewing at the inside of their cheek, before sighing deeply.  
  
" _ I guess you can. _ " They agreed, but their tone was still serious.  
  
Aoife hadn't taken Valen's words then as seriously as she perhaps should have. Just that morning, Valen had taken pains to remind her again.  
  
" _ Now remember, if something happens to me - _ " they began, before they left the flat. Aoife rolled her eyes and interrupted with a heavy sigh.  
  
" _ Yes, Valen, I know. I'm to leave Antiva behind me. _ " Aoife repeated, shoving her arms into her coat. Valen tossed her her travelling cloak.  
  
" _ And why is that? _ " They asked, arms crossed expectantly. Aoife slung her cloak around her shoulders and heaved another dramatic sigh.  
  
" _ Because friends are dangerous and you're not my friend, so you're the only one not dangerous. _ " Aoife repeated, rolling her eyes. Valen took a quick step toward her and tugged her into a tight hug.  
  
" _ Your name is in the mouth of others, kit, _ " Valen whispered, holding Aoife tight. " _ Be sure it has teeth.* _ "  
  
As Aoife sat in the underbelly of the ship, working through the disbelief and anger of losing someone else, she wondered if Valen had known it was going to happen all along.  
  
A crew member found her hours later and, after scolding her for hiding, put her to work. She was sent down to the galley to find the cook where she began the massive task of preparing meals.  
  
She didn't ask the cook where they were headed, and no one on board asked her what she was running from.  
  
Instead, she spent her days working in silence and counted her sorrows at night. She slept on a thin pallet by the cooking fire and rose several times a night to keep it burning.  
  
She was heartsick and grieving, again, and she wondered how many more people she would have to lose, how much more she would have to pay, when it would be safe for her to love someone again.  
  
And day by day, she left Antiva behind for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Maxim 16, The Seventy Maxims of Maximally Effective Mercenaries
> 
> I like to think that Valen quotes the Seventy Maxims of Maximally Effective Mercenaries at Aoife like, non-stop.


	19. nineteen - Solace 9:40 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I won't apologize for leaving. That clan never wanted me in the first place."
> 
> "You're right," Siobhan agreed, taking another deep drag from her pipe, "but Deshanna did."

**Nineteen. Solace 9:40 Dragon**

 

It was almost a full year later when Aoife found herself wandering closer to the lands she'd been raised in. The weather was beginning to turn sour, and when she thought about Deshanna she found that the deep-seated ache in her chest wasn't quite as sharp around the edges as it had been once.  
  
As she picked her way through forests that grew more and more familiar, she found herself thinking harder about what Siobhan had said to her about forgiveness.  
  
" _ What did you mean? When you said she didn't need my forgiveness? _ " Aoife had asked, some days after Siobhan had first raised the subject. Siobhan met her eyes over the pipe she was smoking.  
  
" _ Should the paper apologize for the words on it? _ " She asked, gesturing to the book open in front of Aoife. Aoife didn't understand.  
  
" _ As the Keeper, Deshanna had the final say on what happened in the clan. _ " Aoife said. Siobhan took a long drag from her pipe.  
  
" _ Did she? _ " She asked. Aoife frowned down at the scarred top of the low table they were seated at.  
  
" _ The Keeper leads the clan. _ " She insisted. Siobhan snorted and spat into the fire.  
  
" _ Maybe they do. Maybe they don't. Doesn't change a thing, girl. She didn't kill the boy. _ " She blew a large cloud of smoke in Aoife's direction. " _ She cared enough to be the one to tell you. She waited for you at the edge of camp. She couldn't change that he was dead, but she  _ could _ change the way you learned about it all. Would you have rather no one said a thing? Or the gamekeeper told you? Or that girl you mentioned? _ " She asked pointedly. Aoife shook her head.  
  
" _ But Deshanna could have stopped them from sending him away in the first place! _ " Aoife argued. Siobhan shrugged.  
  
" _ Maybe she could have. Maybe she couldn't. You told me yourself that your clans can only have so many mages before they start drawing unwanted attention. And your clan already drew quite a lot of attention, as you were one of the few that traded openly with the clans nearby. Another untrained mage, especially one his age, would have absolutely drawn the wrong kind of attention. You also told me the Templars were in the village nearby, and they'd killed one mage already. Who's to say one wrong step wouldn't have sent them after your clan? Maybe she could have made a different choice, one that would have made you happy. But you and Talagan both were grown, and capable of protecting yourself. That Keeper of yours had to make choices that would protect the younglings. _ " It was the most Aoife had ever heard Siobhan say all at once without swearing or being interrupted by a foul cough. Aoife's mouth tasted sour as she thought about Siobhan's words.  
  
" _ But . . . _ " Aoife said, still staring down at the table top. Siobhan sighed, and when she spoke again, her words were almost gentle.  
  
" _ She knew you loved him, girl. She knew it would hurt you. And maybe, if you'd asked her, she could have explained why things went the way they did. Why she made the choices she made. But sometimes, people in charge have to make bad decisions. From what I understand of it, her choice not only cost her a beloved hunter of the clan, but a daughter. _ " Siobhan stared knowingly at Aoife. " _ Forgive her or don't, girl. That choice is yours, and always will be. But you're the one who walked away. _ "  
  
" _ I won't apologize for leaving. That clan never wanted me in the first place. _ " Aoife said, meeting Siobhan's eyes finally.  
  
" _ You're right, _ " Siobhan agreed, taking another deep drag from her pipe, " _ But Deshanna did. _ "  
  
Siobhan had never entertained another discussion about it after that night, and Aoife never really tried to bring it back up again. She hadn't even thought about it, really, until she caught herself quietly trailing the young hunter from Clan Lavellan for the third day in a row.  
  
"What is Rochon teaching these younglings?" Aoife murmured to herself as she watched the young hunter noisily stomping through the underbrush. But she'd made her decision.  
  
It would have been easy enough for her to slip into the camp at night, she knew. But she'd walked away from her clan with her head held high, and she wouldn't come sneaking back in like a child who'd made a wrong choice. She had lived a thousand lives since she left, and she wore each and every scar on her skin with pride. Even the  _ vallaslin _ .  
  
So she waited for the weather to grow just a little colder, and she hunted just enough to make up for her impending visit.  
  
She didn't know what she wanted to accomplish from this visit, what she thought there might be to gain. There were no apologies waiting for her in the camp she once called home, she knew that much. No one there regretted the loss of her love - and if she ached just a little at the thought of Deshanna's face as she'd walked away from the camp, it was easily enough ignored.  
  
So she didn't know what she was looking for when she finally made her way up a winding path she'd raced down as a child, laden down with meat and skins to bring as an offering.  
  
She didn't know what she wanted, but when she saw Deshanna waiting for her with a soft smile on her aged face, something in her soul eased, and she thought that maybe, that was the whole point of her visit after all.


	20. twenty - Harvestmere 9:40 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I didn't mean to be gone so long." She admitted softly. Tomas sent her an understanding look.
> 
> "For some of us, one mile can be farther to walk than thirty. The road home isn't always the same as the one you took away from it, girl."

**Twenty. Harvestmere 9:40 Dragon**

 

Aoife found herself slipping back into something of a routine with surprising ease. Not much had changed for Clan Lavellan since she'd left some nine years beforehand.  
  
Nothing much, except for her.  
  
The gamekeeper still stared at her warily, with barely concealed dislike, but Aoife was old enough and had lived long enough that his stares hardly mattered to her anymore.  
  
Yara had married in the time Aoife had been gone, and had children of her own. When she saw Aoife walking back into camp she'd turned her still-crooked nose up at her, but Aoife had met kinder people far more impressive, and her snide remarks couldn't even break the surface of her calm.  
  
The younglings were all fascinated with her, the adults her age were understandably wary, and the elders downright avoided her. But it was home enough, in the meantime, with Deshanna there.  
  
One night, Deshanna found her by the fire.  
  
"I have something of yours," Deshanna began, slipping onto the bench beside Aoife.  
  
"I would imagine you have many things of mine. I didn't leave with much, after all." Aoife joked a wry smile on her face. Deshanna didn't smile in return, but her eyes did go soft. She handed Aoife a rolled piece of parchment.  
  
"I found this the day after you left and I held onto it. I thought you might want it one day, if you ever came back. And if you didn't. it was something to remember you by." Deshanna's voice was brittle, and there were years of hurt that stood between the two of them, but she handed the parchment over with a smile. The paper was worn at the edges, and it crinkled alarmingly when Aoife began to unroll it.  
  
At first, she wasn't sure what she was looking at by the dim light of the fire, and then the lines seemed to jump into bright focus.  
  
On the parchment was a sketch of brown and green, idly drawn by Talagan some time after she had received her  _ vallaslin _ . She was years past being the awkward, gangly teen in the picture, but it still made her catch her breath.  
  
They just looked so  _ young _ .  
  
She stared at it unseeingly for a long moment before she had to blink back tears. She didn't know how he'd managed to capture them both so perfectly without something else to reference. She had her head thrown back in laughter, and Talagan was smiling fondly down at her. She didn't know when he could have drawn it, but it made her  _ ache _ to see it. Aoife stared at the picture for a long moment before cradling it gently to her chest.   
  
She stared unblinking into the fire for a long moment before turning her gaze to Deshanna. She opened her mouth to say something, anything really, but found that she didn't have any words. The smile Deshanna gave her as she pressed a gentle hand to her shoulder told her she hadn't really expected her to say anything.  
  
Aoife stared at the picture for long hours, and when she finally slept that night, for the first time in years she dreamed of his smile.  
  
The next morning, just after dawn, Aoife slipped down the familiar path toward the small village nearby. It hadn't grown overmuch in the years she'd been gone, and Tomas' house was still a familiar landmark on the edge of the village. As she drew closer, she was able to make out the slender form of a young man busily chopping wood. She made her way up to the rough wooden fence and leaned over it.  
  
"When did you get so tall,  _ da'len _ ?" Aoife asked. A wide grin spread across her face as the young man turned to face her, confused and startled by her sudden appearance. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of her before recognition lit up his face.  
  
"Auntie?" Mikhail asked. He set down the axe he'd been using to split logs and crossed the distance between them. Aoife laughed and pulled him into a hug. She ruffled his hair before she pushed him back to arm's length to get a good look at him.  
  
"Oh no," she began seriously, "this won't do at all. You're so much taller than me now!" She teased. Mikhail flushed lightly.  
  
"Da says I might get even taller." Mikhail admitted. Aoife laughed again.  
  
"You're not allowed, young man! Then you'll be even more of a pain in the neck!" She said brightly. The young man flushed again.  
  
"Where've you been? Everyone's been worried." He asked. Aoife's grin dimmed just the slightest. She shrugged lightly before motioning toward the small house.  
  
"Is your dad home? I'm sure he'll want to know too, and it's easier to tell the story once." Aoife said. Mikhail nodded.  
  
"Yeah. Irenna went to pick up eggs and bacon from the shop, but she'll be back soon. Da's got Jonas out back milking the cow." Mikhail said as they walked toward the door. Aoife laughed again and smacked Mikhail's shoulder.  
  
"So  _ that's _ why you people have so many kids. You get someone to do all your chores!" She laughed. Mikhail shrugged before laughing.  
  
"Yeah, you're not wrong, I guess." He pushed open the door and lead the way inside. "Da?"  
  
Aoife followed behind him, hidden by his newfound height advantage. Tomas was sitting at the table near the fire, mending something with care. He glanced up at Mikhail as he came through the door.  
  
"Did you finish with the wood?" He asked, turning his attention back to the cloth in his hands. Mikhail started to answer when Aoife interrupted.  
  
"I'm afraid he had a more pressing matter pop up." She said. She slipped around Mikhail's shoulder and gave Tomas a wide grin. At the sound of her voice his head had jerked up and the sudden motion made him stab his fingers with the sharp needle he was holding.  
  
"Ow! Maker's tears, Aoife. Where've you been?" Tomas asked roughly. He pushed the bundle in his lap onto the table and stood. He crossed the room in three quick steps and wrapped her in a tight hug. Aoife wrapped her arms around the man's waist and tucked her face into his shoulder. She swallowed back the urge to tear up as he held her close.  
  
"Oh, you know." Aoife mumbled into his shoulder. "I've been around." Tomas scoffed slightly before he let her go.  
  
"Sit. Mikhail, go find your sister and let her know Aoife's back." He sent Mikhail off with a wave of his hand and tugged Aoife into a seat by the fire. "Jonas might not remember you, he's so young. But Irenna's been asking about you constantly." Tomas told her. He busied himself with getting tea ready. Aoife felt a curious weight settle in her gut.  
  
"I didn't mean to be gone so long." She admitted softly. Tomas sent her an understanding look.  
  
"For some of us, one mile can be farther to walk than thirty. The road home isn't always the same as the one you took away from it, girl." Tomas said. Aoife nodded.  
  
"Something like that." She said. When he had a steaming cup of tea shoved into her hands he took the seat next to her.  
  
"So, what brought you back home?" He asked. Aoife took a small sip of tea.  
  
"I guess I just ran out of road." She sighed. Tomas met her eyes and waited. "I saw . . . some really awesome things. And I lost some things too, maybe more than I'd had when I was here. I found myself just walking closer and closer to home. Ended up spending two days trailing some of the younglings as they were out hunting. Decided that meant maybe it was time to come home." She shrugged her shoulders again. Tomas studied her face before nodding.  
  
"Well, you're not moping anymore, so I suppose that's something." He said softly. Aoife snorted a soft laugh.  
  
"Too much walking between here and there. I was too busy trying not to fall in a ditch to mope properly." Aoife answered. Tomas laughed and shook his head. They were quite for a moment before Tomas took her free hand in his.  
  
"When the letters stopped coming, the kids and I thought the worst." He told her gruffly. Aoife swallowed back the sudden lump in her throat.  
  
"I'm sorry, Tomas. At first it was just that it was too difficult to find someone willing to carry the messages, and I didn't know how to write well enough to do it myself. And I never really spent more than a few weeks anywhere, except for when I was in Crestwood and Antiva. All the rest of the time was spent on one ship or another, or walking, or the one time I spent a week and a half cramped into the back of a very small, very overstuffed wagon." She frowned deeply. Tomas gave her hand a squeeze.  
  
"I'll not bury any of my kids before I go, girl. And I plan on staying around a long time." He said meaningfully. Aoife took another sip of her tea to distract herself from the growing urge to cry.  
  
"I don't know how long I'll be staying. I came back to resolve things with Deshanna, I think." She frowned again. "Maybe it would have been kinder not to come." Tomas scoffed.  
  
"Nonsense. This is as much your home as anywhere else. Of course you should have come." He reached out and mussed her braids. "And if you need to leave again, then you leave. But you remember that you've a home here, should you need it. And remember to send us a letter or two." He said, full of fatherly care. Aoife grinned at him weakly and nodded. Just then, Mikhail came back through the door, dragging Irenna behind him.  
  
"Mikhail! Stop! You've nearly torn my arm out! I still needed to go speak to the butcher, and you almost made me drop the eggs! You can't just -" Irenna cut herself off mid-rant as she caught sight of Aoife sitting by the fire. Aoife gave her a soft grin.  
  
"Hello  _ da'len _ . I see you've gotten tall, too." She said, standing up to greet the young woman before her. She'd never spent much time around Irenna's mother, had only met her once or twice before Jonas was born, but she remembered that she was a great beauty. She could see that in Irenna now as she stood before her.   
  
They stood there for a long, tense moment of silence. Aoife didn't know if Irenna would be happy to see her, or upset that she'd been gone so long. The young girl had been particularly fond of her, perhaps because she was the only female she'd spent any length of time with as a child. Or maybe it was just because Aoife loved her. Aoife didn't know if the intervening years had soured those memories for Irenna or not. She took a slow step toward the young woman and had only just managed to set her mug down when Irenna leapt into her arms.  
  
"Auntie! You're back! I told you guys she wasn't hurt! I told you she'd be back! When did you get back?! Mikhail why didn't you just tell me Auntie was here?! Did you miss me? I missed you so much! How long are you staying? Why didn't you write for so long? Did you bring me anything?!" Irenna talked a mile a minute, reminding Aoife for a short moment of Merrill, and Aoife laughed as she hugged her close. A large part of her was incredibly relieved that Irenna didn't seem to bear her any ill will. Tomas sighed heavily.  
  
"Let the girl breathe, Irenna. Maker's breath, she can't get a word in edgewise with you rambling on like that." He chided. Irenna took a short step away from Aoife and mumbled a soft apology. Aoife laughed and linked an arm around the girl's shoulders.  
  
"It's okay, I know I'm your favorite." She teased. She reached into the small bag she had slung over her shoulders. "And as it happens, I  _ did _ bring something along for each of you." Aoife announced. It was at that moment that Jonas stepped back inside the small house.  
  
The young boy had only been 3 when Aoife had left, toddling around the house and just beginning to speak clearly. Aoife gave him a wry smile.  
  
"Hello Jonas. I don't know if you remember me or not, but it's good to see you." Aoife said, waving at the boy. He glanced between his siblings and his father before meeting Aoife's eyes.  
  
"You used to sing to me, right?" He asked slowly, screwing his face up as he tried to remember. Aoife nodded her head.  
  
"Yes. Sometimes when you were restless your father would let me sit with you while he went about doing his business." Aoife said. Jonas nodded distractedly.  
  
"You've been gone a long time then." He said. Aoife nodded in agreement.  
  
"Yes. I'm sorry I didn't get to spend as much time with you as I did your siblings. But I'd like to get to know you now, if you want." She offered. Jonas glanced around at the rest of his family before shrugging.  
  
"Yeah, alright." He said, and that was enough to make Aoife draw him up in a tight hug just like all the others. He accepted it with surprising grace.  
  
Tomas gathered them all around the small round table. Mikhail made tea for them all after Tomas admitted he made it better than any of them. Irenna cooked them all a quick breakfast and laid it out in front of them. When they were all seated around the table, elbows bumping and everything, Aoife told them all about her travels. About Siobhan and Crestwood, about travelling by ship across rough seas. About Valen and Antiva, even if she did heavily edit all the killing and stabbing people. She passed around the little trinkets that she'd collected for all of them, more than happy to explain about each of them.  
  
Irenna was especially interested about her time in Antiva, while Jonas wanted to know more about Siobhan. Mikhail didn't ask her many questions, but he laughed just as much as the other two. The whole time Tomas watched them all with a soft smile on his face.  
  
When breakfast was done, and they'd gotten all the stories out of Aoife that she was willing to give that day, Tomas sent them all back to their chores. Irenna protested the loudest, but even she was loathe to argue with the firm look on her father's face. When they were all back to their chores, Tomas set next to Aoife again.  
  
"Thank you for letting me come back." Aoife said softly. Tomas put a large hand on her shoulder.  
  
"I told you when you left that you were like one of my kids. It's still true. And you can always come home, Aoife." He said. Aoife blinked quickly to stem the sudden tears that threatened to spill over.  
  
"You're still as good as any father I've ever known." Aoife answered. Tomas scoffed again.  
  
"Don't tease." He grinned. "I'm glad you're back safe, girl." Aoife answered his grin with one of her own.  
  
"Me too."


	21. twenty-one - Firstfall 9:40 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The humans are doing something foolish."
> 
> "When have humans ever done anything else?" Aoife laughed.

**Twenty-One. Firstfall 9:40 Dragon**

 

Aoife sat by the fire and watched the younglings playing in the flickering light of the warm flames. In the four months that Aoife had been back with her clan, she'd somehow been appointed the evening babysitter. She didn't mind doing it - children were much smarter than most people gave them credit for. And they laughed much more than any adults ever did, which was something that Aoife had a desperate need of in her life.  
  
"Ilya, be more careful. If you're going to wrestle one another, you take it away from the fire." Aoife called, pointing the knot of wrestling kids to a safe space further away from the fire. They grumbled but complied and moved to the open area before tumbling back together. Aoife laughed softly and turned her attention back to the soft piece of greenwood in her hands.  
  
After that morning she spent with Tomas and the children, she had found herself there more mornings than not. It was nice to spend that time with them.  
  
She learned all about the baker's son, who Mikhail apparently was harboring a giant crush on. Irenna spent hours telling her all about the grand designs she had for future blankets while trying to convince Aoife to teach her how to wield a knife. And Jonas had managed to find common ground with Aoife around whittling. She helped the young boy pick out a good whittling knife, and taught him a few things she'd picked up through her own practice.  
  
She was carving something new for Jonas to practice creating when she heard footsteps drawing close behind her.  
  
"The humans are doing something foolish." Deshanna said by way of greeting. Aoife glanced up at her with a wry smile on her face.  
  
"When have humans ever done anything else?" Aoife laughed. She watched Deshanna take a seat beside her, and in the light of the fire Deshanna's eyes were filled with fear. " _ Hahren _ ?" Aoife asked softly. Deshanna studied the children playing for a long moment before shaking her head.  
  
"Yara, come watch the children." Deshanna called. The other woman, who had been seated by a fire nearby talking with another woman, started to argue but stopped when she too caught sight of Deshanna's severe look. Yara made her way to the fire with a frown on her face. Aoife stood from her seat, barely glancing at Yara as she did so, and followed Deshanna away from the fire.  
  
Deshanna's aravel was much like Aoife remembered it being when she was a child, even if time had made it somehow smaller. Aoife took a seat at the low table inside and watched Deshanna putter around making tea. When she was finally seated in front of Aoife she leaned forward, resting her elbows heavily on her knees.  
  
"What's wrong,  _ hahren _ ?" Aoife asked, wrapping her hands around the cup of tea Deshanna had given her. Deshanna frowned.  
  
"There's something happening. Some sort of gathering. Kina and Uirdis returned this morning from their trip into town saying the  _ shemlen _ were all on edge about it." Deshanna began. Aoife frowned down at her tea.  
  
"But, the humans have gatherings all the time. Why is this one something to worry about?" She asked. Deshanna shook her head.  
  
"This one is special because the _shemlen_ 's Divine herself requested this meeting. They're calling it a Conclave. The rumors say it has something to do with the growing war the  _ shemlen _ are waging upon themselves and everyone else right now." Deshanna's voice was soft in a way that almost hid her fear, but Aoife had seen enough scared people by now.  
  
"The humans are always fighting one war or another,  _ hahren _ . Is this really something to be so concerned about?" Aoife asked. Deshanna met her stare evenly.  
  
"You've traveled around,  _ da'len _ . You've seen the signs of war yourself. You know what happened in Kirkwall. You must have heard about the Circles falling apart, and the Templar rebellion. All of it has everyone on edge." Deshanna whispered. Aoife frowned again.  
  
"But . . . but Kirkwall was just one place. And the Circles, and the Templars. Those are all separate things, aren't they? How can any of that affect anything?" Aoife asked. She'd heard the rumblings, sure, ever since her brief stay in Kirkwall. She'd heard all the warnings - she'd even met the Champion himself - but she hadn't really  _ listened _ to any of them. When Deshanna spoke again, fear coloring every word, Aoife listened then,  
  
"Kirkwall may have been the match that lit the fire going now,  _ da'len _ , but this goes back years and years beyond that. Everyone is scared, and when people are scared they make horrible choices. It's not just the  _ shemlen _ . The dwarves and the rest of the clans are worried as well. I am worried for what this growing violence means for our people. You know as well as I do that anything that can be blamed on us typically is." Deshanna said heatedly. Aoife took a deep drink from her mug.  
  
"So, what do we do about it?" She asked. Deshanna hesitated before speaking.  
  
"I have an idea. Something that the elders and I have been discussing for a long time. It just seems that now is the best time to make it happen. But it's dangerous,  _ da'len _ . And there is no one in the clan suited for it but you." She reached out to cup her hands around Aoife's. "I am sorry for the weight I keep asking you to carry,  _ da'len _ , but I trust no one else to do this so much as I trust you."  
  
Aoife met her eyes and studied her. Deshanna was desperate, Aoife could see that.  
  
"Alright." She sighed. "Tell me everything."


	22. twenty-two - The Divine's Conclave 9:41 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Did the blights drive everyone insane? We've all survived the blights before now, right? Unless it's a slow moving sickness? Is that why the Grey Wardens are so strange?"

**Twenty-Two. The Divine's Conclave 9:41 Dragon**

 

Aoife had agreed, somewhat reluctantly, to slip into the Divine's Conclave and send word back to Deshanna. It was another two weeks before Aoife was ready to leave, and she spent most of that time taking up space in Tomas' kitchen and making many promises to Irenna that she would come back soon.  
  
It was easier than she'd thought it would be to find her way to the village of Haven. It was already a pilgrimage for some that believed in the Maker, and there were so many people already coming and going along the path that no one asked her anything she couldn't answer as she traveled.  It was admittedly unnerving to follow along a path with so many mages and Templars about, but she was nothing if not experienced in avoiding uncomfortable confrontations.  
  
And no one looked twice at a dirty elf, after all, and she was nothing if not dirty and dust covered from all of her travels.  
  
She followed a group of servants up the path to the Temple of Ashes and slipped into a back door after them. As she walked down the gleaming halls of the Temple, she thought about the evening she spent in the company of the Champion. Garrett Hawke was a madman in his own right, of that she would agree, but she wondered what he thought about all this.  
  
There were rumors slipping through the ranks about another Exalted March. Roving bands of dangerous apostates and wild Templars had been running through the hills, and Aoife wondered idly when things had taken a turn for the worse.  
  
"Did the blights drive everyone insane?" Aoife muttered to herself as she wandered the halls. So far she'd avoided notice, but as she got closer to the center of the Temple - where the main meetings were being held - she knew she'd draw more attention. "We've all survived the blights before now, right? Unless it's a slow moving sickness? Is that why the Grey Wardens are so strange?"  
  
She slipped into a side hall that appeared to be used exclusively by servants. She was looking for some kind of closet that might hide uniforms - no one would know she wasn't  _ supposed _ to be there if she was wearing a uniform, elves were interchangeable to most people after all - when she heard the voices.  
  
She stopped and listened. Further down the hallway there was some sort of commotion happening. First it was a low murmur, then angry yelling and then finally, a frantic yell of "Please, someone! Help me!"  
  
Aoife raced down the hallway and slammed open a set of double doors she wouldn't remember opening until much later. The Divine was inside, suspended in the air in front of a horrifying creature and what looked to be Wardens.  
  
"What's going on here?" Aoife asked, stepping further into the room. She sized up the people she saw surrounding the Divine. She couldn't do a whole lot against mages, but she might be able to knock down one or two if she was quick enough. If she could break their concentration, they'd break the spell keeping the Divine suspended, and Aoife might be able to snag the Divine and make a break for it. The Divine caught her eye.  
  
"Run while you can! Warn them!" She yelled, her eyes frantic. Aoife took a step backwards, her arms still stretched toward the Divine. The creature dismissed Aoife with a bare glance.  
  
"Kill the elf." When it spoke, the creature's voice was a deep twist of rage and power. In the small moment it was distracted, the Divine smacked what appeared to be a metal orb out of its hand. It rolled across the marble floor toward her. It was only natural for Aoife to reach out and try to catch it.  
  
And then, when the Conclave went up in flames around her - " _ green and gasping and aching, fire and screaming, Aoife _ " Siobhan whispered in her head, her eyes wide and blank and terrifying - Aoife wondered if perhaps she wasn't the mad one this time.


	23. twenty-three - The Divine's Conclave 9:41 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What affects the shemlen tends to affect everyone, or hadn't you noticed? It's not like humans are the only ones dying right now. And the Dalish didn't send me. My keeper asked me for a favor." She snapped. She glanced at Cassandra. "I thought we had a giant rift in the sky to fight?"

**Twenty-Three. The Divine's Conclave 9:41 Dragon**

 

The first time Aoife woke after the explosion at the Conclave, she was cold and sore. She was curled into an uncomfortable ball on a cold, cracked floor, and her hands were bound by unforgiving chains.  
  
The door in front of her burst inward, and the angriest woman Aoife had ever seen marched right up to her and dragged her off the floor with one hand. Aoife had one moment to register sharp cheekbones and a rough scar along the left side of her jaw before the woman started yelling.  
  
"What was your plan?" She shouted her question at Aoife before dropping her back to the floor. Aoife's knees ached something fierce as they made contact with the stone floor. "What did you hope to accomplish by killing everyone at the Conclave?" Aoife floundered for a moment while trying to gain her bearings.  
  
"They're dead? All of them?" Aoife asked, staring up at the woman before her. She sneered in response.  
  
"Of course they are. Did you think anyone could have survived?" She paced around Aoife in a wide circle, causing Aoife to twist sharply to watch her.  
  
"I . . . I don't understand." Aoife answered. At that moment, a crackle of energy burst through the room, exploding out of her left palm. She jerked as the energy was accompanied by a bone-deep ache. The woman darted forward and took hold of Aoife's left hand.  
  
"Then what is this?" She asked, squeezing Aoife's wrist almost to the point of pain. Aoife shook her head.  
  
"I don't know! I don't know how it got there! I don't know why I'm here!" She shouted, fear and pain clouding her vision. Elves had been killed for lesser things than just being  _ near _ the scene of a tragedy. She couldn't imagine what they were going to do to her for being  _ found in _ the scene of a tragedy.  
  
A red-headed woman that Aoife hadn't previously paid attention to stepped forward to place a hand on the woman's shoulder.  
  
"We need her, Cassandra." She said, helping Cassandra stand. They shared a long look before she spoke again. "Take her to the Breach. She needs to see. I'll meet you at the forward camp." The second woman gave Cassandra a short nod before she left.  
  
"Get her up." Cassandra growled, motioning to the two guards who stood at Aoife's side. They yanked Aoife to standing by the chains before unlocking the shackles around her wrists, and Aoife had a single moment to rub at the aching marks left behind before Cassandra tied them again with a length of damp rope. "Follow." She ordered. Powerless to do anything else, Aoife did.  
  
When they walked out of Haven's Chantry, Aoife saw it. A great, awful tear in the sky. Rippling with sickly green energy and pulsing unnaturally.  
  
"They are calling it the Breach. It is a tear in the Fade. Demons are pouring from it like blood from a wound." Cassandra explained. She took hold of Aoife's arm just above her left elbow and began marching her through town. Her hands were bound tightly in front of her by the damp length of rope Cassandra had secured them with, and once she became aware of it, her left wrist ached something fierce.  
  
The stares that followed them through town were the worst Aoife had ever received even from her clan back home. The humans eyes were narrowed, and angry whispers followed them as they made their way to the large wooden gate. Cassandra noticed Aoife watching the people around them carefully.  
  
"They have decided your guilt. They need it. Our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, died as a result of the explosion. You were found in the center of it all. They say you walked out of a rift before collapsing. That was four days ago." Cassandra explained. Her voice was neutral at best, but the anger in her eyes wasn't.  
  
_ Just enough time to decide I should be dead, too. _ Aoife thought, biting back her own anger. She followed Cassandra quietly before another pulse from the sky sent her sprawling. Cassandra leaned down to look at her.  
  
"That mark in your palm is somehow connected to the hole in the sky, and it is killing you with each pulse from the Breach. They are growing more frequent." Cassandra said, meeting Aoife's eyes. Aoife felt sick. "We think that the connection between that mark and the hole in the sky can be used to seal the Breach and stop the demons from coming. Will you help?"  
  
Aoife studied the woman in front of her. Her gaze had never once wavered, and she met Aoife's suspicious stare head on.  
  
"You think  _ this _ can do something about  _ that _ ?" She asked, motioning to the giant green scar in the sky. Cassandra nodded. Aoife took another moment to stare at the glowing gash in her hand before nodding.  
  
"Alright. I'll help." Aoife said, motioning to the sky. "Although I don't know what I'm supposed to do to fight the fucking  _ sky _ ." Cassandra studied her face for a very long moment, long enough for Aoife to watch the distrust and anger shift into something a little more hopeful.  
  
"We shall see soon enough." Cassandra said. She hauled Aoife to her feet and lead her out of the gates of the village. When they reached the outer gates, Cassandra turned to her and drew a knife from her belt. Aoife watched her warily, hands raised, but Cassandra only sliced through the damp rope that had been chafing against her wrists. Aoife rubbed at the red marks, paying special attention to her left wrist, before meeting Cassandra's eyes.  
  
"There will be a trial. I can promise no more than that. But since you have agreed to help us, things will go easier for you. You have my word." Cassandra announced before turning on her heel and heading up the hill toward the Breach. Aoife followed along behind her, thinking. Many elvhen had been brought before crowds of scared, angry humans, in many different trials, but she couldn't remember any of them walking away from them.  
  
_ I'll have to be quick _ , Aoife thought,  __ if I'm going to get out of this alive.  
  
Aoife followed Cassandra down the trail for a little while longer before another pulse from the sky sent her to her knees. She curled around her aching wrist and ignored Cassandra's approach.  
  
"The longer we wait, the more your mark grows and also the more demons pour forth from the sky." Cassandra said, pulling Aoife back to her feet.  
  
"What did the soldiers say? The ones who found me?" She asked, walking down the path and trying to ignore the throbbing ache in her palm. Cassandra matched her pace evenly.  
  
"After the explosion, soldiers were sent in to see who was left alive.  _ If _ anyone was left alive. They said that you stepped out of a rift that appeared just outside the temple." She paused for a moment and caught Aoife's eyes, seeming to debate something within. "There was a woman seen in the rift behind you. No one knows who it was." The thought clearly troubled Cassandra more than she knew what to do with. Aoife's brow furrowed in thought.  
  
"Come, we must meet up with the others." Cassandra pushed forward, leading Aoife across the bridge. They'd made it about halfway across when something fell out of the sky. The impact shook the bridge apart beneath their feet, and she and Cassandra rolled to a stop beneath the wreckage. Two demons appeared seemingly out of nowhere in front of them. Cassandra drew the strong shield from her back as she yanked her sword out of its sheath.  
  
"Stay behind me!" She yelled. She charged at the demon ahead of her. The second demon turned and began advancing on Aoife. She reached for her daggers only to find that they weren't there.  
  
"Oh, for fuck's sake." She grumbled. "Of course, why would you arm a prisoner?" She started backing away from the creature that was slowly advancing on her. She stumbled over a pile of crates that had landed behind her when the bridge collapsed, nearly impaling herself on two barely-sharp daggers. Aoife grabbed them without hesitation before jumping into the fray. They weren't the best daggers she'd ever had - she spared a single moment to be relieved she'd left her best daggers with Deshanna for safekeeping - but they killed the demon ahead of her easily enough.  
  
When Cassandra had dispatched her prey as well, she turned on Aoife.  
  
"Drop your weapons!" Cassandra demanded. Aoife stopped short, raising her hands. She held Cassandra's gaze for a moment before sighing and rolling her eyes.  
  
"Fine. Fine. Don't get touchy. I'll put them down." Aoife said, moving to set the knives at her feet. Cassandra watched her for a moment before she loosened her stance.  
  
"No, wait." She said, sheathing her sword. "You seem capable enough with such weapons. And I can not protect you as we move deeper into the valley. Perhaps you should keep them." Cassandra said as she motioned to the daggers. Aoife straightened up slowly and tightened her grip on the handles.  
  
"Thank you." She answered. Cassandra slipped her shield back into place on her back and turned to head further down the trail. She paused for a moment and glanced over her shoulder.  
  
"I suppose I should remember that you chose to come willingly, after all." She announced, before continuing to press on.  
  
Aoife and Cassandra fought their way through a few more small groups of demons before they reached a large stone staircase.  
  
"We are almost at the forward camp. You will hear them fighting, soon, I imagine." Cassandra said from her place ahead of Aoife.  
  
"Who's fighting?" Aoife yelled, trying to breathe around a sudden stitch in her side. Cassandra crested the top of the stairs and yanked her sword from its sheath. She spared a glance for Aoife before heading toward the knot of soldiers fighting several demons around a bright green rift.  
  
"Inquisition soldiers! We must help them!" Cassandra yelled over her shoulder before moving into the fray. Aoife yanked her daggers out of their makeshift holders and followed after her. SHe was knife-deep into a demon when she found surprising company.  
  
"Varric!" She yelled, delighted. The dwarf in question gave her a bright grin and shot a bolt from his large crossbow into the demon she'd been stabbing.  
  
"Twist! Well isn't this nice. This day's just getting better!" He drawled. Aoife laughed for the first time since she'd woken up on the Chantry floor.  
  
"Well it could hardly get worse!" She argued, turning to stab into another demon. When the last demon had faded into nothing, a bald elvhen man she hadn't noticed before yanked her left hand up toward the rift.  
  
"Quickly! Before more of them come through!" He yelled, pulling her toward the glowing rift. She started to argue with him, but as they got closer to the rift a bolt of green energy shot from the rift to her palm and seemed to  _ catch _ somehow. After a moment of tension in which she was certain her hand was going to be ripped off her arm, the rift popped out of existence. "As I suspected, you  _ are _ able to close the rifts." He murmured, releasing Aoife's wrist. Aoife glanced down at the mark in question.  
  
"You mean  _ this _ is able to close them. Somehow." She questioned, meeting his gaze. He shrugged and a polite smile crossed his face.  
  
"They are the same, are they not?" He asked. Aoife narrowed her eyes at him.  
  
"Well, isn't that nice?" Varric announced, slinging his crossbow over his shoulders. "And here I was starting to think we'd be ass-deep in demons forever." Aoife turned to look at him.  
  
"Well that's not very deep at all, depending on whose ass we're measuring by, now is it?" She asked pointedly. Varric laughed.  
  
"Ah, Twist, you're a breath of fresh mountain air. I thought we'd talked about this and you weren't looking to get noticed." Varric asked, his voice delighted. Aoife huffed and flicked the ache out of her left wrist.  
  
"So did I, Varric." She answered, glancing at Cassandra. Varric followed her gaze knowingly. "It's a shame, really, but no one else seemed as interested in my plans as you are." Varric laughed again and slapped a heavy palm against her back in such a way that it knocked her knees slightly loose.  
  
"It's nice to see you again, kid. Let's try to stay alive and I'll buy you another drink. You can tell me about all the stories you didn't have the last time I saw you. That scar on your chin is new." He pointed out. Aoife smiled at him and nodded.  
  
"Met a noble who thought he could get handsy. Now he doesn't." Aoife said, knife-sharp grin stretching across her face. Varric laughed again.  
  
"What? Get handsy?" He asked. Aoife shrugged.  
  
"Have hands." She clarified. Varric's laughter rang in the small clearing. Cassandra scoffed where she stood nearby.  
  
"Why am I not surprised that the two of you know one another?" She asked, but was clearly uninterested in an answer as she turned to relay orders to the small group of soldiers standing silently nearby. The elvhen man stepped closer to the two of them. Aoife met his curious gaze. Something about him set her on edge, though she couldn't have rightly said what, exactly.  
  
"My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions." He said, extending a hand in her direction. "I am pleased to see you still live."  
  
"He means,  _ I kept that mark from killing you while you slept _ ." Varric said. He rolled his eyes in a rather exaggerated way. Aoife stared at the hand he held out for her to shake for a long moment before nodding in his direction.  
  
"Aoife Lavellan. Let's see if we can do something about that hole in the sky, shall we?" She slipped her daggers into the belt at her waist and glanced between Solas and Varric. Solas frowned, just slightly, but returned her nod. Cassandra finished relaying orders to the soldiers and joined the three of them where they stood.  
  
"Let's move on. Time is wasting." Cassandra said, straight to business.  
  
Aoife nodded and followed her lead down the rocky path. They were quiet for a long moment before Varric spoke.  
  
"So Twist, tell me," he said, moving to walk beside her, " _ are _ you guilty? Did you blow up the Chantry, kill the Divine?" He asked. Aoife watched Cassandra stiffen out of the corner of her eye, but Varric had shifted to put himself between the two of them. Aoife frowned.  
  
"I don't know, Varric. I don't remember anything that happened at the Conclave. The last thing I remember is making it into Haven and some asshole calling me a knife-ear before I'd even made it two feet into town." She answered. Cassandra's frown deepened. Solas moved up to walk on the other side of her.  
  
"You are Dalish, are you not?" He asked. Aoife inclined her head, but one eyebrow raised in expectation of his next remark. "I have . . . crossed paths with some of your people before." He said mildly. His expression suggested the impression they left hadn't been a good one. Aoife snorted.  
  
"The Dalish are about as much my people as they are yours." She dismissed, ignoring the look on his face when she answered. "My clan would have drowned me shortly after birth if the Keeper would have let them. But I don't think that's what you're actually asking me, Master Solas." Aoife motioned for him to continue talking. Solas frowned again.  
  
"Why did the Dalish send you to the Conclave?" He asked. Aoife sighed and stopped walking. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes and took a long moment to breathe deeply. When she pulled her hands back from her face she saw the three of them watching her with equally curious looks, although Varric's look was tinged with concern. She met Solas's eyes.  
  
"What affects the  _ shemlen _ tends to affect everyone, or hadn't you noticed?" She asked, waving a hand around her. "It's not like humans are the only ones dying right now. And the Dalish  _ didn't _ send me. My Keeper asked me for a favor." She snapped. Solas frowned again and Aoife wondered if that was just his default expression. She glanced at Cassandra.  
  
"I thought we had a giant rift in the sky to fight?" Aoife asked. Cassandra nodded and Aoife fell into step with her.  
  
Aoife climbed the rest of the way up with the three of them - one who didn't trust her, one that Aoife didn't trust, and a third who just seemed to be mildly amused about the whole situation. Varric kept up a steady stream of chatter that allowed Aoife to pretend the world wasn't ending around them.  
  
They found Leliana's scouts where they'd been trapped by an errant rift, and then snuck into the Temple of Ashes much the same way that Aoife had slipped in the first time.  
  
The rift in the center of the temple was large and imposing, but after closing three rifts in their trek to the temple, Aoife didn't feel as apprehensive as she might have.  
  
"I hope you have a plan for getting me up there. I don't think my arms will reach." Aoife murmured. Varric laughed, and Cassandra's brow furrowed. Solas shook his head.  
  
"No. But this rift  _ was _ the first. Seal it, and the Breach behind might be sealed along with it." He answered. Aoife studied him for a moment before shrugging.  
  
"Well, I haven't died yet." Solas snorted beside her in a rare show of humor. Aoife gave him a small grin. "Let's see if that luck can hold." She marched down into the temple, all of them following along behind her. When they rounded a corner and found giant growths of glowing red stone, Varric stopped short and sucked in a shaky breath.  
  
"That's red lyrium, Seeker." Varric hissed. Cassandra studied the growths with narrowed eyes.  
  
"I see it, Varric." Cassandra answered. Varric growled low in his throat.  
  
"What the  _ fuck _ is it doing here?" He asked.  
  
"All the ambient magic created in the explosion could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temple, twisted it somehow." Solas mused, stepping around a growth that jutted out three feet from where the wall would have stood. Varric shook his head and directed Aoife around a large growth in the middle of the walkway.  
  
"Whatever happened, don't touch it. That shit's evil, and it spreads like cancer." Varric warned. Aoife followed his lead and shifted around all of the glowing masses and lead the group into the bottom of the temple. When she hit the floor of the temple, a strange vision appeared.  
  
In it, she rushed into an inner room, probably where they stood now although it was difficult to tell without doors or walls, and found some sort of  _ creature _ attacking the Divine.  
  
"You  _ were _ there! Most Holy Called out to you!" Cassandra said. She marched up to Aoife and placed her hands on her shoulders. "Who attacked? Why did they want the Divine? And Divine Justinia, is she - " Aoife pushed Cassandra's hands off of her.  
  
"I don't know! I can't remember! I don't remember that happening at all!" She yelled. Solas stepped between the two of them.  
  
"It's an echo. The Fade holds onto memories, and the stronger they are, the clearer the impression is in the Fade. This happened just before an explosion that was large enough to rip through the Fade, and our arrival triggered the replay. Perhaps we can discuss the rest further  _ after _ we have closed the rift." He suggested pointedly, staring at Cassandra. Aoife watched Cassandra just past his shoulder. She looked like she had more to say, but she conceded his point with a short nod.  
  
The demon that then stepped out of the rift was the largest demon Aoife had ever seen. Each blow she struck was all that much sharper for her fear. They wore the demon, and subsequently the rift, down as much as possible before attempting to close the rift ahead of them.  
  
"Now!" She heard Solas scream across the battlefield, and she reached out blindly for the rift in front of her. Just like times before, she felt something within her latch and take hold, but this rift was so much bigger than the ones she had closed before. It fought her, and when she finally managed to close it, there was darkness.  
  
When she woke again, an indeterminable amount of time later, it was just as abrupt as the first time. She found herself in a warm bed, and there was a fire burning off to her left. She blearily looked around for what might have woken her and she found another elf kneeling in the center of the room, presumably to retrieve the container that lay in the floor by her feet.  
  
"Oh! You're awake!" The young elvhen was barely more than a child. "I didn't mean to disturb you! You're all anyone's talked about in days!" Aoife struggled to a sitting position.  
  
"Days? How long have I been unconscious?" She asked. Her torso twinged when she tried to twist and swing her legs over the side of the bed.  
  
"Three days, my lady. They said you closed the mark in the sky. They said you saved us!" The girl said, beginning to back away from Aoife. Aoife waved away the praise with a shaking hand.  
  
"Then they're pleased with me? What mercurial people." She murmured. The girl was still backing away.  
  
"Seeker Cassandra would want to know you've woken. She demanded she be told at once." She said, nearly bumping into the wall. Aoife winced as she thought about the stern woman.  
  
"Where can I find her?" She asked. The girl was backed all the way against the door.  
  
"In the Chantry. At once, she said." The girl answered, and then she bolted out of the small cabin. Aoife thought about calling her back to see if she was alright - she seemed awfully scared of her - but decided against it. She dragged herself out of the bed and managed to dress with little difficulty.  
  
She found new clothes and armor laid out for her, and a better set of knives than the shoddy things she'd fought her way to the Breach with. She put them on slowly and wondered what they might cost her in the end. When she felt like she was as ready as she could be, she made her way slowly to the door. When she swung it open, she froze.  
  
There were humans  __ everywhere . They filled every last inch of the village, except a small path that led - she assumed - toward the Chantry. A line of beleaguered guards barely held them all in place. They all went silent when the door opened, before they began shouting as a group.  
  
Aoife flinched just barely and felt a flicker of fear chase up her spine before she straightened her shoulders. She took the first few steps slowly before working up to her regular pace as she headed toward the Chantry in search of the Seeker. She kept her hands firmly at her sides and didn't let her head drop. She kept her shoulders squared and refused to look smaller.  
  
She might have been a caged animal, but even caged animals could bite. It was that thought alone that got her to the Chantry that day, and would carry her through the following weeks.  
  
Caged animals were no less dangerous for being caged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll upload more tomorrow! I have to sleep now or I'm going to die. <3<3<3 ~ Queenie


	24. twenty-four - 9:41 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You have done well for someone who is not a fighter."
> 
> "Everyone's a fighter if they have something to protect"
> 
> "Perhaps you are correct."

**Twenty-Four. 9:41 Dragon**

 

She met the four people that made up the so called War Council of this brand new Inquisition that day in the Chantry, tucked into a cramped back room that was mostly overtaken by bookshelves and the large, map-covered table in the middle of the room. Josephine was sweet, Leliana was clearly dangerous, and Cullen was just shy of pushing all of Aoife's ' **alert: scary templar** ' buttons.  
  
Cassandra told her that they needed her, and Leliana told her she was a target regardless of where she went. Aoife stared at the cut in her palm for a good long moment before she shrugged.  
  
"I guess this is happening. I'll stick around. For now."  
  
After all, there was still a hole in the sky and a hole in her hand and somehow, those two facts were connected. And the only place she had any hope of getting answers was with the Inquisition. So, she stayed.  
  
She followed their orders too, for the most part. When they sent her to the Hinterlands with the goal of finding Mother Giselle. When they asked her to hunt meat for the refugees at the Crossroads. When she was sent all over the wild country to raid the apostate stashes for blankets to be passed around, and when she rooted out the wandering Templars and hidden apostates.  
  
When they stood in the wreckage of the Templar encampment, two days after rooting out the rebel apostates, Aoife sheathed her daggers and slipped away to take a rare moment to breathe. Cassandra came to find her soon after, looking thoughtful. They watched the nearby waterfall for a long moment before Cassandra placed a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"You have done well for someone who is not a fighter." She began, trying desperately to find something to talk to Aoife about. For all that Cassandra was not afraid to share her thoughts, she seemed to have difficulty connecting with other people on an emotional level. Aoife wondered if maybe she was afraid of being hurt. Aoife gave her a wry grin.  
  
"Everyone's a fighter if they have something worth protecting, Cassandra." Aoife answered, pointedly using the other woman's name. Most people tended to refer to her as Seeker. Cassandra inclined her head.  
  
"Perhaps you are correct. But that does not cheapen your efforts." Cassandra replied, and she gave Aoife's shoulder a light squeeze before stepping away. Aoife was only alone for a moment before Solas stepped into place behind her.  
  
"How is your arm?" He asked, motioning toward the appendage. Aoife shrugged.  
  
"It doesn't hurt. And you confirmed that the mark has stopped spreading. It glows sometimes, but I don't know if that's just because of what it is or if it's something I need to be worried about." She answered. Solas extended his hand and she rested her left wrist on his open palm. Cool fingers pressed into her palm and she felt a gentle wash of healing through her arm. She clicked her tongue.  
  
"I said it didn't hurt." She protested, frowning. Solas gave her a small grin.  
  
"You lied." He said simply. Aoife frowned deeper.  
  
"You didn't need to waste the magic. There are others that need healing more than I do." She argued. Solas shook his head and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.  
  
"It is not a waste." He said softly. Aoife sighed again, but didn't protest further. When he was satisfied her hand would not bother her the rest of the day, he let go of her wrist.  
  
" _ Ma serannas, _ Solas." Aoife said. Solas smiled at her.  
  
"You are welcome." He was quiet for another moment, his eyes tracing over her face. "May I ask you a question?" He began. Aoife shrugged and sat down on a nearby boulder.  
  
"I don't see why not." She said. Solas hummed a little in his throat.  
  
"You've said that you don't claim the Dalish, or that they don't claim you. But you wear the marks of the Dalish?" He said, eyes on her face. Aoife shrugged.  
  
"Do you claim the heritage of everything that leaves a mark on you?" She asked. He was silent for a long while, with only the sound of the waterfall between them. Aoife sighed finally. "I chose these, Solas. I chose to wear this  _ vallaslin _ in direct opposition to everything my clan would have expected. These marks are mine now. They don't belong to the Dalish, and neither do I, really." Solas still looked troubled.  
  
"Few things are quite so representative of a people as the Dalish  _ vallaslin _ ." Solas pointed out. Aoife snorted.  
  
"I don't know, I thought their snobbishness was their most defining feature." Aoife argued mildly. Solas sighed.  
  
"At the risk of this conversation devolving into something cyclical and banal, I shall explain what I intended with my first question. I simply wished to understand why you would choose to take the  _ vallaslin _ if you do not abide by any other traditions." He explained. Aoife shrugged.  
  
" _ Vallaslin _ made me an adult in the eyes of the clan. They couldn't make my choices for me anymore. So I chose something I knew they would hate." She answered. Solas narrowed his eyes at her.  
  
"You partook in an ancient rite . . . simply for spite?" He asked her slowly. Aoife snorted with laughter.  
  
"You'd be surprised what people would do out of spite." She sobered a little. After watching his face flick through several emotions she decided to take pity on him. "It's not really so complicated, Solas. Taking the  _ vallaslin  _ let me stay with my clan. And I had important reasons for staying. This was a small sacrifice to keep something that I otherwise would have lost. And now it stands as a reminder, of the things I have lost along the way. Surely you can understand that." Solas's face grew serious, and he looked at her as though he was seeing her for the first time.  
  
"Yes. I can understand." He agreed. He smiled gently at her. "Thank you for telling me, Aoife." It was the first time he'd ever called her by her name. Aoife grinned up at him.  
  
"Sure." She said, shrugging. Solas cleared his throat.  
  
"Before I was distracted, I was going to say that I believed we had done enough to gain an audience with the clerics in Val Royeaux." Solas said. Aoife nodded.  
  
"Yes. I believe that the plan was to finish up here, leave directions for Sergeant Vale and then head to Val Royeaux. Mother Giselle has some names of people she thinks will be sympathetic to our cause. But . . ." Aoife's voice drifted off. Solas crossed his arms behind his back and waited for Aoife to gather her thoughts. "Doesn't everything about this just seem so fucking  _ wrong _ ?" She asked, and her voice was barely more than a whisper. Solas inclined his head.  
  
"How do you mean?" He murmured. Aoife gestured broadly around them.  
  
"All of this. The mages rebelling. The Templars rebelling. Everyone killing everyone. And then the sky just fucking, rips apart? And somehow,  _ I'm _ the one who's supposed to run around and fix everything? Me?" Aoife said, careful to keep her voice down. Solas studied her for a long moment.  
  
"Every great war has its heroes," he mused softly, "I suppose only time will tell what kind you turn out to be." Aoife snorted.  
  
"The reluctant one, I should think." She answered. Then she sighed heavily and flopped onto her back on the boulder. "Oh, Maker's balls, Solas. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing." Aoife confessed. Solas smiled down at her.  
  
"No hero ever does." He teased. " _ Maker _ ? Not a Dalish curse?" He asked, noting her swear. Aoife shrugged.  
  
"Sometimes, I guess, if it fits. I'm an equal-opportunity curser. I've definitely cursed out Elgar'nan's hairy ballsack before." Aoife answered, grinning at Solas's aborted laugh. Aoife sighed again and stood up off the boulder. "Well, let's catch up with Cassandra. I'd like to be back to the Crossroads by nightfall so we can leave first thing in the morning." Solas inclined his head and followed along behind her.  
  
They made camp and headed for Val Royeaux the next morning like Aoife planned. Their trip was mostly uneventful, but as they neared the shining gates of the city, Aoife finally voiced a concern she'd been carrying for days.  
  
"You don't honestly think the Chantry's going to listen to me, do you?" Aoife asked Cassandra as they stepped through the gates of the city. Cassandra shrugged her shoulders.  
  
"And why wouldn't they?" She asked. Aoife narrowed her eyes and stared at the woman for a moment, trying to decide if she was serious or not.  
  
"Well, ignoring the fact that we are travelling with an obvious elvhen apostate and a notorious dwarven rogue, I'm a Dalish elf that some people are calling the Herald of Andraste?" Aoife said lightly, motioning to Solas, Varric and then herself. Cassandra shrugged again.  
  
"And?" She prompted. Aoife narrowed her eyes again.  
  
"I don't know if you're being purposefully obtuse or you're fucking with me because you think it's funny." She muttered. Cassandra sighed, a loud gust of an exhale, and crossed her arms.  
  
"Regardless of the fact that you are a Dalish elf, and regardless of who we travel with, you are the sole reason we were able to seal the rifts around Haven and in the Hinterlands. You are the only chance we have at sealing the other rifts, and hopefully, the Breach itself. Little else matters." Cassandra said. She caught Aoife's look and sighed again. She closed the space between them and placed a hand on Aoife's shoulder. "I believe that you are chosen. I believe that the Maker sent you to us in our hour of need. But we do not need them to believe you are the Herald of Andraste. We only need them to trust in the fact that you are the only hope we have of fixing things before they get any worse." She pushed ahead of the three of them, leaving Aoife staring at her back.  
  
"Look, Twist, the Seeker's a little rough around the edges." Varric began, slipping an arm around Aoife's waist as he came to walk beside her. "What she means to say is that this is all a political power move, and the only way to make it is to show your beautiful face and flash your scary hand. So, what do you say? Feel like harassing some humans into being useful?" Varric's grin was contagious and Aoife smiled despite herself.  
  
"Ugh, fine. But when this all blows up in our faces, I'd like the records to show that I told everyone it would happen." She grumbled. Solas laughed beside her. Since their discussion in the Hinterlands, she'd let herself cautiously open up to the other elf. He was smart, seemed to have a never-ending supply of stories about the Fade, and his humor was incredibly dry. Sometimes she wondered if Valen would have liked him.  
  
"How fitting, that the same Chantry that hunted and slayed the elves should now be saved by them." He met her stare with a small smile of his own.  
  
"I guess it does have a certain schadenfreude tint to it, doesn't it?" She asked.  
  
They made their way into the city square just in time to be publicly denounced by the Chantry. The split between the Lord Seeker and the Chantry was another shock, but Aoife couldn't have said it didn't fit the mood of everything.  
  
And then the Madame de Fer and the Red Jennies both requested her presence.  
  
And when Aoife returned from Val Royeaux to Haven, it was without the Chantry support she'd been sent for, but with Vivienne and Sera in tow, along with a surprising invitation to speak with the mages in Redcliffe.  
  
She ran all over the gods-forsaken place in Thedas, fixing anything and everything that anyone asked her to. She tromped through the Fallow Mire and killed an Avvar seeking glory at the hands of the Inquisition and rescued a lost troop along the way. She met a Qunari spy and a group of Andrastian mercenaries in the wettest part of Thedas, and somehow managed to get both of them on her side.  
  
The Iron Bull's laugh followed her up the Storm Coast, and she was both delighted and terrified at how quickly he got on with Vivienne and Varric.  
  
"Birds of a feather, and all that, Twist." Varric told her that night when they set up camp. Aoife must have made some kind of face that betrayed her confusion because he pointed between the three of them with a smile on his face. "We're all liars, and we all get paid for it _. _ "  
  
"But he  _ told _ me that he's a spy. He was very upfront about it." Aoife pointed out. Varric shrugged nonchalantly and settled in next to the glowing campfire.  
  
"Maybe that's not what he's lying about."


	25. twenty-five - 9:41 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you think if I told them I was hungover they'd argue in heated whispers and pointed, angry glances?"
> 
> "No, but I hope you ask anyway. I'd love to see it."

**Twenty-Five. 9:41 Dragon**

 

They were on their way back to Haven when they got a letter from Leliana asking them to detour to Redcliffe. There were strange rumors rumbling through the Hinterlands about Redcliffe and strange things happening, and the Templars were holed up in Therinfal Redoubt without so much as a peep coming from them. Aoife read through the missive and shrugged.  
  
"Well, Grand Enchanter Fiona invited us. Let's go see what's going on in Redcliffe." She said, and off they went. Vivienne and Sera opted to meet them at Haven, but Iron Bull was ready and raring to go.  
  
"The Chargers will make way to Haven, set up our camp. Let me show you what I can do with this weapon in the meantime." He suggested, teeth bared in a dangerous grin. Aoife gave him a mild smile.  
  
"Well, hopefully you can kill things that try to kill us. Let's head out."  
  
They made their way up from the Crossroads to Redcliffe, following the road that wound through easy country. As they neared the gate, though, Aoife heard shouting.  
  
"I want eyes on that thing constantly! Take down any demon that spawns, but be careful not to get to close. Someone send a message to the Crossroads that another rift has spawned. We'll need the Herald." They rounded the bend to see a harassed-looking Scout yelling orders. She caught sight of Aoife in the group and sagged with relief.  
  
"Thank the Maker you're here. There's a rift nearby, and we're not capable of closing it." She told them as they approached. Aoife gave her a bright, reassuring grin.  
  
"Don't worry about it! I'll take care of it!" Aoife promised, dashing past the Scout to the gate.   
  
After closing the incredibly strange rift at the gates of the village, they made their way inside, all of them on high alert. Aoife drifted closer to Solas, falling in step with him just behind Cassandra.  
  
"Solas, did you notice that rift was . . . stranger than the other ones we've encountered before?" Aoife asked, her eyes scanning the people as they made their way through the village. Solas hummed in agreement beside her. "I felt like sometimes I was moving so quickly that all of you were standing still, and there were other moments where it felt like i was the one stuck still." She glanced down at her palm where the mark was glowing gently.  
  
"It seemed as though the rift was affecting the flow of time. But that should be impossible. We will need to be careful." Solas muttered to her. She nodded her head and followed Cassandra to the tavern where they were set to meet the former Grand Enchanter. Upon their meeting, Aoife learned that Fiona had indentured the mages to a Tevinter Magister, and would no longer be capable of joining them to close the Breach. Aoife left the tavern at a loss.  
  
"A magister in Redcliffe?" Varric asked sharply. He met Aoife's narrowed gaze. "It's strange news, to say the least." Aoife shook her head.  
  
"I don't know that this is the place to discuss that." Aoife whispered. Varric's gaze slid over the collected mages in town and he shrugged.  
  
"Sure, whenever you'd like, Twist."  
  
It was at that moment that Aoife heard muffled yelling in the nearby Chantry building.  
  
"Varric, Solas, The Iron Bull. With me. Cassandra, keep watch." She said. When she rushed through the door she found a mage fighting off two demons with bright flashes of flame.  
  
"Ah, good! You're finally here! Now help me close this, would you?" He said, his grey eyes dancing in the light of the torches as he waved her over. He was the handsomest man she'd ever seen, and he smiled at her winningly. The fight was over relatively quickly, with all the additional help, and the rift was sealed with all the ease of the previous ones. The man surveyed the area with a little grin. "Fascinating. How does that work, exactly?" He asked. Aoife looked from him to the rest of her group. The man laughed a little.  
  
"You don't even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers and BOOM! Rift closes."  
  
"I'm sorry, who are you?" Aoife asked. The man nodded.  
  
"Ah, getting ahead of myself again, I see. Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?" His smile was sharp edged and wicked and Aoife loved him instantly. Iron Bull shifted behind her.  
  
"Watch yourself. The pretty ones are always the worst." He grumbled. The man laughed.  
  
"Suspicious friends you have here. Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable. As I'm sure you can imagine?"  
  
"Are you the reason we were told about the strangeness in Redcliffe?" Aoife asked. Dorian nodded.  
  
"I am. Someone had to warn you, after all. Look, you must know there's danger. That should be obvious even without me leaking rumors. Let's start with Alexius claiming the alliance of the rebel mages out from under you. As if by magic, yes? Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself." Dorian said.  
  
"That sounds like so much of a bad idea." Aoife groaned.  
  
"Worse than you could imagine. The rift you closed here? You saw how it twisted time around itself, sped some things up and slowed others down? Soon, there will be more like it, and they'll appear further and further away from Redcliffe. The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it's unravelling the world." Dorian's voice was serious as he spoke. Aoife cocked her head at him.  
  
"You're asking me to take rather a lot on faith, here." She said. Dorian nodded again.  
  
"I know what I'm talking about. I helped develop this magic. When I was still his apprentice, it was pure theory. A thought experiment, and little else. Alexius could never get it to work. What I don't understand is why he's doing it. Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?"  
  
"He didn't do it for them." Came another voice from the shadows. Another man, this one paler and sickly looking, walked toward them. When he came close, Aoife recognized him as the Magister's son. He'd pretended to collapse in the tavern and attempted to slip something to her before Alexius had dragged him away. "I see you made it here after all, regardless of my poor attempts."  
  
"Ah, took you long enough." Dorian said brightly, turning toward the young man. "Is he getting suspicious?"  
  
"No, but I shouldn't have played the illness card. I thought he'd be fussing over me all day." He turned back to Aoife. "My father has joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves Venatori. And I can tell you one thing. Whatever he's done for them, he's done it to get to you." Felix's eyes were serious. Aoife frowned.  
  
"Why would he rearrange time and indenture the mage rebellion just to get to me?" Aoife asked.  
  
"They're obsessed with you. But I don't know why. Perhaps because you survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes?" Felix answered.  
  
"You _can_ close the rifts. Maybe there's a connection there? Or perhaps they see you as a threat?" Dorian cut in.  
  
"If the Venatori are behind those rifts, or the Breach in the sky, they're even worse than I thought." Felix said, meeting Aoife's eyes. Aoife frowned deeper.  
  
"Alexius is your father. Why are you working against him?" She asked. Felix sighed.  
  
"For the same reasons Dorian does. I love my father. And I love my country. But this? Cults? Time magic? What he's doing now is madness. For his own sake, you have to stop him." Felix said, and his eyes were dark with unspoken pleas.  
  
"It would also be nice if he didn't rip a hole in time. There's already a hole in the sky." Dorian said blandly. Aoife sighed softly.  
  
"All of this for little old me? And here I didn't get Alexius anything." Aoife mused. Dorian laughed brightly, a wonderful golden sound.  
  
"Send him a fruit basket. Everyone loves those." He shook his head. "You know you're his target. Expecting the trap is the first step toward turning it to your advantage. I can't stay here in Redcliffe though. Alexius doesn't know I'm here, and I'd like to keep it that way." Aoife shrugged.  
  
"Come along to Haven with us. I don't know how things are turning out, but you'll be close enough to keep an eye on anything happening here." Aoife offered. Varric snorted behind her.  
  
"Yeah, and you'll be close enough for us to keep our eye on you. Or rather, the Seeker's eye. Oh, Twist, she's gonna shit a nug when she hears about this." Varric grumbled. Dorian smiled brightly.  
  
"That sounds fantastic. I can't wait to meet this Seeker of yours. I'll follow along after you all shortly, I've just got to gather a few things." Dorian said, effectively dismissing them all.  
  
After wandering to and fro, they'd all returned to Haven a little worse for the wear.  
  
Cassandra had, in fact, been less than pleased by their Tevinter tag-along. She'd spent a long, long few moments just staring between all of them before she'd made this disgusted noise and tossed her hands up.  
  
"I don't see why this _shouldn't_ happen." Aoife heard her saying as she stomped away. Aoife made eye contact with Dorian and grinned.  
  
"That's actually pretty tame for Cassandra. She threw me on a prison floor and threatened to kill me the first time we met, so you know. You're doing better than me." Aoife said mildly. Varric slapped Dorian on the back, smirking at his affronted squawk.  
  
"She locked me up in a friends house and stabbed a knife through my book while it was on my lap." Varric said, somehow sounding almost fond. Dorian glanced between the two of them.  
  
"Death threats must be her way of showing affection." He mused. Aoife laughed.  
  
"You know what, you might just be right." She stretched and pointed Dorian to the Quartermaster. "Threnn can set you up with somewhere to stay. Welcome to the Inquisition, Dorian." Aoife said, before following Cassandra into the Chantry.  
  
A few days later, Aoife found herself seated at the fire Varric frequented, staring blindly into the flames and pondering the latest arguments the War Council were having. For reasons beyond her understanding, they kept expecting her to decide things she wasn't sure she was capable of. To choose the paths the Inquisition would take, forcing decision after decision onto her shoulders. Lately the screaming matches had been about who to approach for help in sealing the Breach, and what to do about the foreign Magister sitting in their backyard. Aoife was beginning to wonder if she could just somehow weaponize the tension in room between all of them as a form of fighting.  
  
"Well, if it isn't the Herald of Andraste, come to grace the little people with her presence." She didn't look at Varric as he joined her at the fire, but he knew the glare she was sending into the flames was meant for him all the same. "And by little people I, of course, mean me." He held a large mug of something steaming out toward her.  
  
"I've had a headache for four days now, Varric. I'm not sure I'm in the mood." She murmured. She gave him a wry smile. "I'm still not really sure how I ended up the herald of a woman I don't even know." Aoife sighed, taking the mug out of his hands. She held it close, breathing in the warm scents of apple and spices and letting it warm her hands. Varric grinned at her fondly and ruffled her hair before taking a seat beside her.  
  
"She was the Bride of the Maker, and she was martyred, Twist. What do you mean you don't know her?" He told her. Aoife scoffed while suppressing a full body shiver.  
  
"I know _who_ she is, Varric. But I don't see what she's got to do with me. I'm not a martyr, and I'm not out to hitch myself to anyone, much less a god so fickle he'd let me die." Aoife answered before taking a deep drink from her mug. Varric watched her with those wise eyes of his, and it was a long, quiet moment before he spoke again.  
  
"Let's keep our fingers crossed then, why don't we?"  
  
They drank long into the night before Varric helped her limp back to her bed. When she woke up the next morning it was with a pounding in her head that transformed into a banging at her door. The barest slices of light were working through the windows and the fire that Varric must have started for her when he put her to bed had burned down to smoldering embers.  
  
"What?" Aoife growled out, just as the third round of pounding began on the small door.  
  
"They're asking for you Herald, in the Chantry." The guard outside the door responded, and when Aoife growled again, he took that as his cue to leave.  
  
"Aoife. My name is still Aoife." She grumbled, reaching for the mug of water at her bedside. She took her time getting dressed, nursing small sips of water and trying hard not to vomit, but twenty minutes later found her shuffling through the front doors of the Chantry and stamping the cold out of her limbs.  
  
"They've been going on for about an hour already." Dorian drawled as she drew closer to the small room the War Council met in. Aoife took a moment outside the door to steel herself. She could, in fact, hear raised voices from inside of the room.  
  
"Do you think if I told them that I was hungover they'd argue in heated whispers and pointed, angry glances?" She asked mildly. Dorian snorted in delight.   
  
"No, but I hope you ask anyway. I'd love to see it." He teased. Aoife shook her head and pushed open the heavy wooden door.  
  
"We have to decide who we are going to approach about the Breach. We cannot afford to delay any longer." Cassandra said as soon as Aoife stepped into the room. Her voice was as stern as her frown, but there was real worry in her voice as she spoke. Cullen had been arguing for days about the benefits of seeking out the Templars, and Leliana had been quietly suggesting just as fervently that they turn to the issue of the mages in Redcliffe.  
  
Aoife stared at the map spread in front of her somewhat unseeingly as the four people around her continued to bicker. She thought about all the people who'd died as a result of the war between the Templars and the Mages, and all the rest that were dying because of the Breach. She thought about Dorian, about the risk he took to approach them in Redcliffe. He'd been staking out unoccupied corners in the Chantry since arriving in Haven to unobtrusively eavesdrop on the war council as they took turns yelling over each other.  
  
"Redcliffe," Aoife said, her voice rising above the argument that had swiftly been gaining momentum, "we're going to take back our mages and deal with the Magister. The Templars have refused to deal with us. That's fine. We'll handle this problem instead. When the Magister is no longer a threat, we can discuss the potential of breaching Therinfal Redoubt. For now, our focus is Redcliffe." They all stared at her for a long moment, Leliana smug while Cullen gaped, and Cassandra was the one who finally answered her.  
  
"When?" She asked, turning to the map and studying the placement of their troops. In that moment, Aoife appreciated Cassandra more than ever for her ability to keep moving forward.  
  
"Now." Aoife said, turning and heading from the door. Dorian glanced up from the book he'd been pretending to read just outside the door and smiled as he met her eyes.  
  
"Now?!" Aoife heard Cullen yell as they all moved out the door behind her, following her as she stormed out of the Chantry. Dorian's laughter followed her out of the door as well, bright and delighted, sending hope soaring through her chest that was bright gold and beautiful.  
  
"Yes, now."


	26. twenty-six - Harvestmere 9:41/9:42 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Time magic again. You're telling me we've traveled through time?"
> 
> "Well, yes. But there's only one way to find out."

**Twenty-Six. Harvestmere 9:41/9:42 Dragon**

 

Aoife could tell that Dorian was aching the moment he stood face to face with his one-time mentor. She knew he was, because she'd felt the same when she had walked away from Deshanna, even if the circumstances were vastly different. She was so distracted by the naked ache on his face that she didn't realize until it was too late that Alexius was up to something. When she did catch on, the world around them changed with a sickening lurch of magic.  
  
Aoife found herself in a stinking dungeon, standing hip deep in dark, stagnant water. A dull red glow was everywhere around them, stemming from huge growths of red lyrium.  
  
"Well, I guess there's a first time for everything after all." Aoife said, fighting back a shiver as the cold sunk into her bones almost immediately. Dorian grinned over his shoulder at her, all glittering armor and bravado.  
  
"Well of course there is. Now help me find the key and let's get out of here."  
  
The guards that came to fight them fell with minimal difficulty, and they found the key on a ring tied to one of the waists.  
  
"Where are we?" Aoife asked, studying the creeping red glow around them. Dorian was silent for a moment before he met her eyes.  
  
"I think perhaps the better question is  _ when _ are we. I don't think we've really gone anywhere at all, except to move in time." He lead her out of the lowest level of the dungeon with quick, sure steps. Aoife followed after and narrowed her eyes.  
  
"Time magic again. You're telling me that we've traveled in time?" She asked. Dorian shrugged.

"Well, yes, but there's only one way to find out for sure." He lead her through some more broken rooms and out into a central chamber. There was a bridge across the way that was suspended, and one leading to either side of them. They shared a glance before shrugging.  
  
"Spooky crumbling staircase one or spooky crumbling staircase two?" Aoife asked mildly. Dorian sighed lightly and nodded to the left.  
  
"Let's see what we can find that way."  
  
They picked their way down a side set of stairs and glanced through the rooms, finding them empty. In a room near the bottom, however, they found the former Grand Enchanter.  
  
"Fiona?!" Aoife gasped. The woman struggled to turn her head toward her.  
  
"You're alive? How?" She struggled with the words. "I saw you . . . disappear . . . into the rift?" Aoife was stuck staring at the red lyrium encasing the woman from the waist down.  
  
"Is that . . . red lyrium? Growing from your body?! How is that possible?" She asked. She heard Dorian shifting uncomfortably nearby.  
  
"The longer you're near it, eventually, you become this. Then they mine your corpse for more." Fiona answered, staring at the wall she was just close enough to lean her head against. Dorian moved closer to the cell and peered at Fiona.  
  
"Can you tell us the date? It's very important." He asked. Fiona sighed.  
  
"Harvestmere. 9:42 Dragon." Dorian and Aoife both drew in a shaky breath.  
  
"Nine forty-two? Then we've missed an entire year!" Dorian gasped. Aoife frowned.  
  
"We have to get out of here Dorian. We have to go back." She insisted. Fiona nodded as best as she could.  
  
"Please, stop this from happening." Fiona begged. "Alexius serves the Elder One. More powerful than the Maker. No one challenges him and lives." Aoife growled in her throat.  
  
"That Magister is going to regret that he didn't just kill me." She promised. She saw Dorian shift out of the corner of her eye.  
  
"Our only hope is to find the amulet that Alexius used to send us here. If it still exists, that is. I can use it to reopen the rift at the exact spot we left. Maybe." He shrugged. Aoife shot him a sharp look.  
  
"Good." Fiona answered. Dorian cleared his throat.  
  
"I said  _ maybe _ . It could also turn us into paste." He repeated.  
  
"You  _ must _ try. Your friends are in cells somewhere nearby. And your spymaster, Leliana. She is here too. Find her. Quickly, before the Elder One learns you are here." She insisted. Dorian turned toward the door to leave, but Aoife stepped closer to Fiona.  
  
"Is there anything at all I can do?" She asked. Fiona shook her head.  
  
"I am already dead. And if you can go back, and stop this madness, I will never become as such. Now go!" She insisted. Aoife bit back more apologies and nodded.  
  
They made their way back to the center room and down the second set of stairs. While they picked through the ruins of the once-great castle at Redcliffe, they heard singing.  
  
"Is that . . .?" Dorian asked sharply, tilting his head to listen. Aoife quieted her breathing and listened along with him. When she heard it, a smile broke across her face.  
  
"The Iron Bull." She breathed, feeling the tiniest inklings of hope. They made their way down the hallway and found him tucked away in a cell near the back of a room, pacing slowly and avoiding the large growths of red lyrium.  
  
The man they found inside the cell was not the man she'd been travelling with moments earlier. He turned to face them at the sound of them entering the room, and his face grew serious.  
  
"You're not dead. You're supposed to be dead. There was a burn mark on the ground and everything." Iron Bull said, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the two of them. Aoife studied the eerie red glow of the red lyrium surrounding Iron Bull.  
  
"Alexius didn't kill us. His spell moved us through time. This is our future." Dorian explained. Iron Bull growled and shook his head.  
  
"Well it's  _ my _ present. And in my  _ past _ , I definitely saw you both die." Iron Bull repeated. Aoife shook her head and took a step closer.  
  
"Clearly, we didn't die." She insisted. Iron Bull narrowed his gaze at her.  
  
"Or this is just another trick of the demons." Iron Bull argued. Aoife sighed.  
  
"We're going to fight Alexius and see about fixing all of this. Coming?" She asked, prying the lock open. Iron Bull slipped out of the cell and circled the two of them. Aoife was briefly reminded of the sharks she'd seen out in the open water on her travels and fought back a shiver.  
  
"Why? You want to see what other tricks he's learned?" Iron Bull asked. Dorian cleared his throat.  
  
"If we find him, we might be able to get back to our own time and stop all this before it happens. Exciting, yes?" Dorian asked, clinging to the thin edge of dramatism he still had in him.  
  
"Alexius isn't really the one you need to worry about. It's this 'Elder One'. He killed the Empress of Orlais, and used the confusion to launch an invasion of the South. The army was all demons. You ever fought a demon army? I don't recommend it." Iron Bull drawled, crossing his arms over his chest again.  
  
"I'm sorry that I wasn't here to help." Aoife said, dropping her gaze. The red glow in his eye was beginning to seriously creep her out. Iron Bull snorted.  
  
"Did you not hear what I just said? Demon. Army. Shit, you were lucky you died early." He said. Aoife shifted again.  
  
"We want to fix this. Please. Will you help us?" She asked him. Iron Bull studied the two of them for a moment and shrugged.  
  
"Sure. Why not? Been a while since I got to smash anyone's head in." He turned and walked to a large chest tucked against the wall in a corner. His armor and weapons had been stashed in it, and he strapped them all on. Once he was ready, he pointed to the door. "Cassandra should be around here somewhere. I think they moved her down a level. They split us up when they realized that even behind bars we could kill them." Iron Bull said, grinning sharply. He pointed to a door that lead further down.  
  
They followed the staircase down and found Cassandra in a cell near the door, reciting the Chant of Light.  
  
"You've returned to us!" She said, staring between Aoife and Dorian. "Can it be? Has Andraste given us another chance? Maker, forgive me. I failed you, Aoife. I failed everyone. The end must truly be upon us if the dead return to life." Aoife picked the lock on her cell quickly and knelt down before Cassandra.  
  
"You look wounded, Cassandra. Maybe we can help." Aoife said, reaching out for the other woman. Cassandra held out a hand to stop her before she got to close.  
  
"No, don't. They've been doing experiments on us, to see how long we could resist the red lyrium. Nothing you do can help me now. I'll be with the Maker soon." Cassandra said softly. Dorian stepped closer.  
  
"Alexius sent us forward in time. If we find him, we may be able to return to the present." He said urgently. Cassandra shifted up off the floor to stand before the both of them.  
  
"Go back in time? Then," she looked between Aoife and Dorian, "can you make it so that none of this ever took place?" She asked, hope creeping into her voice. Aoife nodded her head.  
  
"If Dorian is right and we can actually reverse the spell, then yes." Aoife agreed. Cassandra stepped past them to dig through a nearby chest, pulling out her own weapons and strapping them on.  
  
"Alexius should be in the throne room. He has barricaded himself in. It will be a fight." Cassandra warned. Iron Bull laughed heartily.  
  
"Good. Been itching for a good fight for ages." He growled.  
  
They continued to pick their way through the wreckage of the Redcliffe castle dungeons. The Thedas they had landed in was a shadow of the truth, an aching thing of red lyrium and demon armies and fire and screaming. Dorian chattered and laughed, but she saw the way his hand shook where he gripped his staff. The way he stood much closer to her as they slipped silently through the halls. The way he fought to keep them safe.  
  
The red lyrium was absolutely everywhere, eating into everything. Cassandra had told her the Venatori was experimenting on them with red lyrium, and Aoife could see it eating its way into Cassandra and Iron Bull. Leliana wasn't much better when they found her, just a husk of a human powered by rage. She urged them to go back, to stop the chaos and destruction from happening.  
  
They fought their way to the throne room, and their defeat of Alexius was bittersweet at best.  
  
Upon regaining the amulet that had sent them awry in the first place, Dorian informed them all that he could definitely send the both of them back to stop the horrible, lyrium-blighted future from coming to pass.  
  
"Good." Leliana growled. "Do it. We will protect you as long as we can." She said. Cassandra and Iron Bull both met Aoife's eyes and nodded. Aoife frowned at them.  
  
"I won't let you die." She said firmly. Leliana shook her head, already notching an arrow into her bow.  
  
"Look at us, we are already dead. The only we we live is if this day never happens. Now get to work. You have as much time as I have arrows." Leliana said, facing the door that slammed shut heavily behind Cassandra and Iron Bull.  
  
While she waited for the magic to catch, Aoife watched. She watched the door slam open, and demons drag in the lifeless bodies of Cassandra and Iron Bull. She watched Leliana felling demon after demon before she too fell dead at Aoife's feet.  
  
She reached out for them all as the magic caught, lurching her back into the right time with her voice caught around a scream and a rising ache in her gut.  
  
They stopped Alexius, and gathered the mages, and it was a victory for the Inquisition.  
  
But for Aoife, and Dorian, it was only the shadow of one, a strange feeling sinking in their bones that somehow felt like loss.  
  
When they sat around the campfire that night, outside the gates of Redcliffe, Dorian gave her a weak smile.  
  
"I never thought he'd fall so low." He admitted softly. Aoife reached out and took one of his hands in hers.  
  
"You said he was your mentor, right?" She asked. Dorian nodded.  
  
"He was my patron, sponsoring me to the higher levels of the Circle of Magi. In return, my successes were his." He paused to give her a bright, practiced smile. "I had a lot of successes, naturally. Alexius was most pleased." He turned his gaze to the fire.  
  
"It sounds like the two of you were a good match." Aoife said softly. Dorian rubbed his free hand over his face.  
  
"Oh, he and I used to talk over brandy about the corruption in Tevinter, how we could one day make a real change in the Imperium. And then he . . . gave up. He stopped trying." His gaze never wavered from the fire. Aoife gave the hand she held in her own a quick squeeze.  
  
"Why did he give up?" She asked him. Dorian glanced at her.  
  
"On a journey to Hossburg, a darkspawn raid killed his wife and sickened his son. I remember hearing the news. He hadn't been there, you see. Alexius was convinced he could have protected them, and the guilt tore him up inside. I helped him with his research for a while after that, and then we . . .drifted apart." Dorian motioned aimlessly and shrugged. Aoife frowned a little.  
  
"I'm sorry." Aoife said. "I've been let down like that, too." She admitted softly.  
  
"At first I was furious." Dorian said quickly. "I told him to snap out of it, move on. I thought I had all the answers. Later, I regretted my hasty words. But we didn't speak again until he approached me for the Venatori. Too much pride, I suppose. Plus, I was busy drinking. One must have priorities." He said the last bit quickly, like he was aiming for flippancy. Aoife shook her head.  
  
"I don't think that's it at all. I think you felt guilty because you couldn't help him. And because you'd walked away, too." She said softly. Dorian scoffed and gave her a wry look.  
  
"Clever you." He paused and gave her hand a soft squeeze. "I had a choice, you see; wallow in self-pity or get away while I could. So I made my way to Redcliffe, and then to you. At any rate, he's fallen so low, I doubt he'll ever get up. It's sad, really." He turned his gaze back to the fire. Aoife sat with him in silence for a few minutes before she gave his hand another squeeze and stood up.  
  
"I'm glad you're here, Dorian." She told him. He gave her a quick smile.  
  
"Me too." 


	27. twenty-six - Harvestmere 9:41 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They said you were a wild thing, straight from the forests. Little better than a caged beast."
> 
> "Are you implying I'm not?"

**Twenty-Seven. Harvestmere 9:41 Dragon**

 

They made it back to Haven with little trouble after leaving Redcliffe, and had a small moment to breathe before their impending assault on the Breach. Aoife spent the first thirty minutes she was back in Haven glaring and pointedly suggesting to the Quartermaster that the mages be given suitable lodgings before Cassandra stepped in, just as it was beginning to look like Aoife was leaning closer toward violence with every second that passed.  
  
"They  _ will _ be given suitable lodgings, as befitting equal members of the Inquisition. And by suitable, Cassandra," Aoife warned, her eyes still narrowed at the Quartermaster, "I mean that they will have access to the same blankets and food and housing as everyone else, or I will see to it myself. By whatever means necessary." Aoife promised. She saw Cassandra nod beside her.  
  
"Of course they will Herald, they are members of the Inquisition now. They are going to help you seal the Breach. They will, of course, be taken care of." Cassandra promised, and her own stare was narrowed at the Quartermaster. Aoife liked Cassandra so much better when they were on the same side. Aoife took one more long look at the Quartermaster before smacking Cassandra's shoulder.  
  
"I'm going to go lay down for like, seven weeks. Wake me up in a couple hours, yeah?" Aoife asked. Cassandra's face softened for a moment and she smiled.  
  
"Of course, Herald. Nothing will happen without you." Cassandra promised. Aoife laughed.  
  
"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of." She waved at Cassandra before walking away. "I'll see you in a bit."  
  
Varric raised a mug at her as she passed, somehow already cleaned and holding court in his usual space by the fire, but she shook her head. It had been a disgustingly long trip to Redcliffe, and then back, and Aoife hadn't laid down properly or had a full bath since the disaster in the red lyrium future. Aoife walked slowly back to the small hut that had somehow become hers in the time since she'd fallen in with the Inquisition, and she thought about the future that she and Dorian had seen. She waved at people as she passed them, but managed to slip into her room without incident.  
  
She slipped her heavy armored coat off and slowly she the layers of the day, sitting down on her bed to tug her boots off with relish. They were just slightly too tight for her toes, and they pinched something awful when she wore them too long. The alternative to them, however, was frozen toes, so she was resigned to wearing them for the time being. She was rubbing the ache out of the balls of her feet when there was a knock at the door.  
  
"Aoife? May I have a moment of your time?" Solas' voice carried clearly through the door and Aoife tensed for just a moment. Something about Solas still seemed to put her off. Having lived with a professional liar for a time in Antiva, Aoife knew he was lying about  _ something _ . She just hadn't decided if it was worth figuring out or not.  
  
"Of course, come in." Aoife called. Solas slipped in the door and shut it quietly behind him. He offered Aoife a small smile as he made his way into her space and took a seat in the chair that had been shoved up under the desk. "What can I do for you, Solas?" Aoife asked. Solas met her gaze steadily.  
  
"I wondered if you would be so kind as to tell me about the future you saw in Redcliffe." His words were carefully chosen, but she heard an underlying sort of excitement in his tone. Aoife sighed softly.  
  
"Are you sure you want to know? What I saw wasn't . . . it wasn't an especially kind future, Solas." Aoife said. She shifted on the bed to cross her legs beneath her. Solas' gaze hadn't wavered.  
  
"Everything that you saw could help prevent the very future you found yourself in. Something that seemed insignificant could change the entire course of the world." Solas answered evenly. Aoife studied him for a long moment before shrugging.  
  
"Well, fine. I'm already traumatised from it, rehashing it for someone else can't hurt. So, what do you want to know?" She asked, turning her attention back to her aching feet. Solas cleared his throat and reached across the space toward her.  
  
"I can spare some healing, if you need it." He said, motioning to her feet. Aoife shook her head.  
  
"It's not really something that needs focused healing attention. It's just an ache. It'll have to go away on it's own. No sense in wasting the magic." She waved away his concern. Solas frowned, but nodded and folded his hands in his lap.  
  
"Dorian has stated that the amulet took you through time, something that you corroborated with your own statements. How far did the magic carry you?" He asked. Aoife sighed heavily.  
  
"Whatever spell it was that Alexius used carried us a year into the future." Aoife answered. Solas nodded his head.  
  
"And you were still in Redcliffe?" He continued. Aoife nodded.  
  
"Yeah. Dorian said something about displacement? He thought Alexius was trying to erase me from time completely, but either the spell didn't work the way he'd planned it to, or Dorian's attempt to counter it twisted it. Either way, we ended up in the dungeon of the castle." Aoife grimaced as she thought about the cold water they'd landed in.  
  
"What did the castle look like?" Solas asked. Aoife shuddered.  
  
"Fucking . . . awful, Solas. There was red lyrium growing out of the walls, the floor. It was like some kind of horrifying, glowing moss. We made our way out of the dungeons and found the Grand Enchanter almost completely encased in red lyrium. Fiona told us it was 9:42, and also that the red lyrium was being grown from the bodies of the people who had been infected with it." Aoife shuddered again, remembering the awful glow from Fiona's eyes. Solas frowned even deeper.  
  
"Grown from corpses?" He murmured, his voice soft. He quirked his lips as though he'd had a thought, but shook his head. "What happened after you met the Grand Enchanter?" He asked. Aoife sighed again.  
  
"Do you mind if I do this laying down?" She asked, not waiting for Solas' answer before sprawling on her bed. "After we found Fiona we searched around through all the rest of the cells and found Cassandra and The Iron Bull. It wasn't pretty. They were both heavily infected with red lyrium. They told us that Alexius was working for something he called The Elder One, and that a demon army had marched across Orlais." Aoife paused for a moment and turned her head to meet Solas' steady gaze. "They murdered the Empress and then marched across the entirety of Thedas. We found Leliana in another room, and then we fought our way toward Alexius. When we finally found a way out into one of the courtyards, I saw the Breach. It was . . . horrific. It stretched across the entirety of the sky. Leliana told us that rifts had torn apart all of southern Thedas. It was like there wasn't a veil anymore, just a bleeding wound that lead to the Fade."  
  
Aoife stopped and turned her gaze to her left hand. It had ached something fierce when they were in that corrupted future. When they'd walked out in full view of the Breach, Aoife had almost been knocked to her knees with the raw energy pulsing out of the Breach. Solas looked troubled for a long moment before he hummed in his throat.  
  
"Did you see this Elder One?" He asked softly. His eyes were fixed on Aoife's left hand as well. Aoife shook her head.  
  
"No. After we fought with Alexius, he began attacking the castle. Leliana, Cassandra and The Iron Bull all urged us to come back and stop that future from ever coming true." She stopped talking for a moment and clenched her left hand into a fist. " _ We are already dead. The only way we live is if this future never comes to pass. _ That's what Leliana said to me in that moment. They fought the demons and Venatori for as long as they could, and before Dorian got the spell to work, I watched all three of them fall at my feet." Aoife blinked back sudden hot tears and met Solas' steady gaze. "I will not let that future come to pass."  
  
Solas reached forward and took Aoife's left hand in his own. He studied the mark for a long moment before a cooling wash of healing magic seeped through the aching limb.  
  
"It seems as though your mark bothers you the more that you have to draw on it. I had suspected this might be the case, as you are not a mage. Your connection to the Fade is tenuous, at best, and likely only strong when you're dreaming. If you'd like, I can attempt to teach you some tricks to minimize the damage in the moments between. Meditation, and the like." He offered, rubbing his thumb into the aching edges of her palm. Aoife hummed softly in her throat.  
  
"If you think they'll help, I'm willing to learn." Aoife agreed. He gave her a quick smile.  
  
"But you are right, of course. This Elder One must be stopped. He threatens the entire world." He paused for a moment, still holding Aoife's hand, and met her gaze. "I will be glad to keep fighting at your side,  _ lethallan _ ." Solas squeezed her hand gently to reinforce his statement. Aoife smiled a watery smile up at him.  
  
"Thanks." She whispered. Solas let her hand go and stood from her seat. When she made to sit up herself, he stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.  
  
"No, rest. You are tired, and there will be little time for you to rest later. Thank you for telling me what happened. I can only imagine how difficult it was for you to endure. But you have endured, and we will not allow that future to come to pass. I will make sure that someone sends you something to eat." Solas said softly. Aoife smiled again.  
  
"Thank you, Solas." She said. Solas made his way to the door and nodded a goodbye before slipping out and closing the door behind him softly. Aoife laid where she was for a long moment, thinking about the events of the past few months, before she pushed herself out of the bed again.  
  
"Alright. Time to get clean."  
  
Aoife spent the next hour or so meticulously cleaning herself, her armor, her knives, and her clothes. When the young elvhen girl who'd woken her that first time arrived with a tray laden down with food, Aoife almost cried again.  
  
"Oh, thank the creators." Aoife sighed, happily taking the large tray. The young girl looked reluctant to let go of it, but when it became clear Aoife was taking it she relinquished it easily enough.  
  
"When you're finished, you can just set it outside and someone will collect it." The girl said. Aoife hummed happily at the sight of roasted meat and potatoes. The girl shifted just out of Aoife's direct line of sight. "Herald?" The girl asked. Aoife turned her head.  
  
"I didn't ask your name before.  _ Ir abelas _ . Would you mind telling me now?" Aoife asked. The young girl flushed deeply.  
  
"Oh, there's no reason you should have asked! I'm just a servant, but . . . my name is Finn." Finn was quiet again for a moment before seeming to draw her courage. "Can I ask you a question, Herald?" Aoife shrugged.  
  
"Only if you stop calling me Herald. My name is Aoife. I'd like to hear someone use it." Aoife met Finn's eyes steadily. The younger girl seemed hesitant, but she nodded.  
  
"O-okay. Aoife." She paused, seeming to gather herself again. "Are you afraid?" Finn asked. Her eyes darted to Aoife's left hand. The closer she was to the Breach, the more it seemed to glow a sickly green color. In Haven, it let off a faint green light all over everything she touched. Aoife glanced at her left hand before meeting Finn's eyes.  
  
"Yes. I am afraid,  _ da'len _ ." Aoife answered. Finn searched her face for a long moment, but whatever she saw was enough for her. Finn nodded her head.  
  
"Okay. When you're finished, please set your tray out here and I'll make sure it's picked up." Whatever else Aoife might have wanted to say to her was irrelevant, as Finn then darted out of the room. Aoife stared at the door after her for a long moment before turning back to her food.  
  
Aoife had been scared for months, since she had woken up in a dank dungeon chained to the floor. She didn' t know if sealing the Breach would change that or not. Troubled by that thought, she tucked back into her food. She worked her way through the rest of the large tray of food before she decided to try and get some rest. They'd be taking off for the Breach in the morning, and she needed to be as rested and alert as possible.  
  
Sometime around midnight, Aoife - who had been pacing in front of the small fire for the last three hours - realized she wasn't alone. Iron Bull had slipped in at some point and had been leaning against the doorframe and watching her pace a trench in front of the fire.  
  
"They said you were a wild thing, straight from the forests. Little better than a caged beast." Iron Bull murmured. He hadn't put any stock in the rumors he'd heard on his way to the Storm Coast to meet the Herald. He knew better than most that rumors were only worth what you paid for them, and ones freely whispered in taverns held about as much water as a whore's blouse. A smile twitched on Aoife's lips as she paced.  
  
"Are you implying I'm not?" She asked, hands tucked behind her back. Iron Bull watched her pace for a few more moments and hummed in the back of his throat.  
  
"There are other ways to work out your stress." He offered mildly. Aoife didn't break her stride, but the wry twist to her lips suggested she found him amusing. He didn't know whether to be offended by it or not.  
  
"Mm, thanks. But maybe we can have this discussion  _ after _ I've managed to stitch the sky back together." Aoife met his eyes on her next turn and gave him a sharp smile full of meaning. "I'd be more than happy to work out the details in full."  
  
The two of them had been dancing around each other from the moment Iron Bull had joined the Inquisition. Aoife had been fascinated by Qunari in general, having met a few in her travels, but Iron Bull had made her laugh and returned her curious glances with wicked grins that sent shivers up her spine. Even if it was all just an elaborate plot from the Qun to get closer to her, although why anyone would _want_ that she had yet to figure out, he still made her  _curious._    
  
After Iron Bull watched her pace for another five minutes or so, he sighed and tugged the chair across the room before propping it up in the corner. He sank into it with another sigh, pointedly sweeping his gaze from one end of the room to the other.  
  
"Relax, Boss. I'll take this watch, yeah?" He said, tilting his head toward the bed off to his right. Aoife started to argue when she realized what Iron Bull was offering.  
  
Despite her long years of travelling and slipping in and out of human cities, Aoife never really relaxed in any of them - especially one that had been convinced she was the reason the entire world was going to shit. She hadn't had a proper nights sleep since she lived with Valen. Even being back with her clan hadn't allowed her to relax.  
  
Unwilling to lose out on the chance for a deep sleep, Aoife inclined her head in thanks and slipped into her bed. For a long moment, the only sounds in the hut were the crackling of the fire and the soft whisper of their breathing. As Aoife drifted closer to sleep, she heard Iron Bull begin humming, before a quiet song tumbled out of his mouth. She had heard Qunlat spoken before, but she didn't know enough about the language to understand the meaning. She hadn't even known there were Qunari songs. As she drifted further into sleep, she thought about how, even though she didn't understand the words, the song sounded unbearably sad.  
  
When she woke the next morning she was alone. The only sign she'd had any company the night before was the small knife resting on the chair by the fire. The handle curved to a sharp point and was oiled a deep color similar to that of Iron Bull's horns. Aoife picked it up and turned it over in her hands.  
  
"Why do people keep giving me knives as signs of affection?" Aoife murmured to herself. She grinned and tucked it into her belt when she dressed.  
  
She stepped out of the hut and into the cold morning air. As she passed Varric, his knowing smile made her blush a deep pink color.  
  
"Did you sleep well, Twist?" He asked. An outside observer might have taken his tone for concern, but Aoife knew he was teasing. She narrowed her eyes at him.  
  
"I slept great, and I am unmolested, and I wouldn't have given you details anyway!" She hissed. Varric laughed.  
  
"I have no idea what you mean, Twist. I was only asking about the health and welfare of our precious Herald of Andraste. But if I  _ did _ , by some strange inkling, know what you meant, I would say that  **everyone** gives me details." He waved her away toward the Chantry and she huffed.  
  
"I'm ignoring you!" She called behind her. His laughter followed her up into the Chantry itself.  
  
"Everything is ready. We'll begin as soon as you are prepared." Cassandra said by way of greeting when Aoife entered the war room. Aoife met the gazes of each person in the room in turn, memorizing the lines in their faces. They weren't her friends, not really, but all of them had been tugged together by horrifying violence, and it was hard not to care about people who were willing to bleed for you.  
  
"Alright then. It's time. Be smart, and be safe. I expect you all to be prepared, should the worst happen." She said. They all gave her a small nod in response. Satisfied, she nodded her head and headed out of the Chantry. Dorian and The Iron Bull met her at the gates. Cassandra came to stand by Aoife's shoulder.  
  
"I can't promise that it's going to seal. I can't promise I'll fix anything at all. And I can't promise that this won't all somehow make things worse and we'll all end up surrounded by demons." Aoife said, glancing between the three of them. Dorian laughed and tightened his grip on his staff.  
  
"I went through time with you, my dear. I think I can handle a demon or two." He announced. Iron Bull nodded beside him.  
  
"I'm with you, Boss." He said simply. Aoife touched the small knife she'd tucked into her belt and nodded. Cassandra placed a strong hand on her shoulder.  
  
"I have promised to follow you and see this through. I will not falter now." She promised. Aoife grinned.  
  
"Well, okay then. Let's go beat up the sky." Aoife called, marching out ahead of them. They made their way up the path to the Temple relatively quickly. Solas had gone ahead with the mages they'd brought from Redcliffe. Only the senior enchanters had been sent along, and Aoife noticed Fiona coordinating the movements of several mages as they entered the Temple. Soldiers had been working to safely remove and destroy the dangerous growths of red lyrium in the temple since the sealing of the rift, and Aoife led her companions past the now-cleared spaces. They met Solas on the ground floor of the temple where they'd fought the Pride demon.  
  
"Did you sleep well,  _ lethallan _ ?" Solas asked as Aoife drew close. She nodded, squinting as she stared up at the Breach high above them.  
  
"Well enough. Are you sure this is going to work?" She asked him. Solas nodded.  
  
"Yes. The additional magic from the mages will boost the power of the mark. Even though you yourself aren't a mage, the magical focus should be enough to seal the Breach." His voice was confident, and it was enough to make Aoife confident as well. Cassandra stepped up next to the two of them.  
  
"Will the Herald be alright when this is over?" She asked, glancing between the two of them. Solas frowned for a brief moment before nodding.  
  
"So far as I can tell. The mages will not be casting a spell  _ on _ Aoife, only  _ through _ her. The mark will act as an anchor should and draw the magic to it. When she extends it toward the Breach, it should naturally connect as it has every other time." He explained. Aoife nodded.  
  
"Cool. So. What do I need to do now?" She asked. Solas moved her around toward a spot near where the first rift had opened.  
  
"Just stand here. On my count, extend the mark toward the Breach and reach, just like you've done with all the other rifts we've encountered." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Do not be afraid, Aoife. You have sealed many rifts before, and we all stand here with you should anything decided to come out." Aoife glanced behind her to see Dorian and Cassandra flanking her in defensive stances. Iron Bull had shifted up ahead of her and off to the right. He met her stare with a nod and a quick grin.  
  
"We've got you, Boss. Do what you need." Aoife nodded her head and swallowed back the lump of fear in her throat. Solas moved back toward the mages standing behind her.  
  
"Be ready! On my mark, focus your energy on the Herald. Push the mark up and we can seal it. Ready? Now!" He shouted. Aoife stretched her left hand out above her as far as she could, reaching as hard as she could for the Breach in the sky. For a moment, nothing happened. She had just enough time to wonder if something had gone wrong before she felt it catch.  
  
A giant stream of sickly green energy stretched from the sky above to Aoife's left hand. She felt the mark trying to rip its way out of her and her knees tried to buckle.  
  
"Cassandra! Help me keep her standing!" Dorian yelled, shifting under her right arm. Cassandra took hold of Aoife under her left armpit, and between the two of them they kept her propped into a standing position.  
  
Aoife felt the magic from the mages behind her shift through her somehow, and the mark tugged even tighter. For a long moment, she worried it was going to rip her left arm off, when it suddenly detached. With a great snapping sound, like some giant tree had fallen in an echoing canyon, the mark snapped the connection between her and the Breach and the Breach itself seemed to seal over completely.  
  
Aoife sagged against Cassandra and Dorian, gasping for breath. Her left arm throbbed in time with her racing heart, and she stared up at the sky.  
  
"It's sealed. It's done." Solas said, reaching toward her to take her left hand in his. The healing washed through her aching limb like a cool breeze across overheated skin. "You've done it,  _ lethallan _ . The Breach has been sealed." Aoife took a few deep breaths. She felt vaguely like she was going to be sick.  
  
"Oh good. Don't let me fall." She said, before her knees buckled completely. She slipped from Dorian and Cassandra's arms and would have hit the ground if Iron Bull hadn't stepped close to catch her with a strong arm around her waist. Aoife met his eye with a grin. "Thanks."  
  
"I told you, Boss. We've got you." He laughed. "You feel like walking or you ready to ride the Bull?" He teased, a cheeky grin spread across his face. Cassandra made an exasperated sound behind them while Aoife laughed loudly. The fear and exhaustion was creeping up on her and she was nearing the edge of a full blown break down. Iron Bull squeezed her gently.  
  
"I told you we'd talk about that after." She finally answered. Iron Bull shrugged and shifted his grip on her.  
  
"It's after now, isn't it?" He asked. Aoife laughed again.  
  
“I guess so. Help me down this mountain and we'll negotiate." She teased back. Iron Bull grinned widely.  
  
"Oh good, I love negotiations. I'm great at them!" He said brightly. He held her just a little tighter for emphasis. Aoife laughed again, and if the sound was just shy of hysteria, Iron Bull didn't mention it. Cassandra appeared at her shoulder.  
  
"Solas and Dorian will remain here with the mages and ensure that the Breach has fully sealed and that there is no further danger. Bull, take her back to Haven. Take some time to rest, Herald. You've earned it." Cassandra's voice brooked no argument, but Aoife wasn't sure she could have offered one regardless.  
  
"I can stay -" Aoife began, guiltily, but she was cut off when Iron Bull shifted his grip and tossed her over his left shoulder.  
  
"You got it, Seeker. Call if you need someone to smash any heads in.  _ Especially _ if they're demons." Iron Bull said, waving over his shoulder before heading back down the path to Haven.  
  
"Now wait just a minute! The Iron Bull, I said wait! I can still - put me down, you big asshole!" Aoife argued, beating a fist against Iron Bull's shoulder. Iron Bull strode out of the Temple of Ashes with a whistle, and only stopped when they were halfway down the path back to the village. Aoife had been loudly arguing the entire way, with occasional smacks at the firm muscle of Iron Bull's back. When they were too far away from the Temple of Ashes to turn back, Iron Bull gently slipped her from his shoulder and set her on her feet. Aoife narrowed her eyes into a glare.  
  
"I did not need to be carried out of there like a limp bag of vegetables. I am perfectly capable of walking. I only lost balance for a moment, not enough to make me infirm. And furthermore, I was perfectly capable of staying there until they were absolutely sure that the Breach had been sealed. If it hasn't been, they're just going to need to drag me back up there, and it doesn't make sense to waste the time of sending a runner back to Haven when I could have just stayed there in the first place." Aoife began, her voice firm. While she spoke, Iron Bull was rummaging in the many pockets of his pants. Aoife narrowed her eyes even further. "Don't ignore me when I'm talking, The Iron Bull. You had no right to -"  
  
Aoife stopped short when a small round mirror was shoved into her hands. Iron Bull met her gaze evenly.  
  
"Have you seen the bags under your eyes recently, Boss?" Iron Bull asked, watching her carefully. Aoife, who had been stunned into silence, glanced down at the small piece of glass in her hands. In the faint light of the early afternoon, she studied her reflection. It was much the same as it had been the last time she'd seen it. Her pale  _ vallaslin _ still streaked across her cheeks and forehead and down her throat. There was a new smattering of freckles and just the hint of sunburn across her nose from her recent excursions in the Hinterlands. The scar through her left eyebrow was still there from that fight with Yara so many years ago, along with other assorted scars, and her eyes were still the strange pale yellow-red that they'd been since she was born. But under them both were deep, dark smudges that belied countless sleepless nights. Aoife studied her reflection closer.  
  
"You're tired, Boss. You're wore out and run down, and if you don't stop now, you're going to burn out completely. Last night was the first night you've actually slept since you joined the Inquisition, I could tell by the way you fell into sleep. And I would be willing to bet my last coin that that left arm of yours hurts you more than you've told anyone. Solas is probably the only other one who knows that it hurts you at all. If Cassandra had needed you there, she would have said. She's not the type to lie about that. Since she didn't need you, she dismissed you because she knew that you wouldn't walk away otherwise." Iron Bull met her startled stare evenly. "I knew you wouldn't have come along any other way. In the future, I'll make sure you're only carted around by explicit request. But sometimes, Boss," he paused, reaching out to rest a heavy hand on her shoulder, "sometimes the people who care about you have to take the reins and make you take care of yourself. It's not weakness to rest, Boss."   
  
Aoife gave him the small mirror back and watched him slip it back into his pocket. She held his stare for a long moment before nodding.  
  
"You're right, of course. I'd have stayed." She glanced down at her left hand and curled it into a fist. "And it hurts. It hurts all the fucking time, and Solas only knows because I'm a bad liar and he's the only one who's asked. Varric probably guesses. And I'm tired, of course I am. But I'm not just a person to these people anymore The Iron Bull, regardless of how much I keep trying to argue with them about that. I'm some kind of symbol, and symbols can't be bodily removed from places of interest." She narrowed her eyes at him again and shoved a finger against his chest. "So next time, use your words and speak to me like an adult. Or I'll find a way to give you a bruise you don't enjoy." She threatened. Iron Bull nodded.  
  
"Understood, Boss." A wide grin worked its way across his face. "Wanna work through all the different kinds of bruises I  _ would _ enjoy first?" He teased, taking her arm in his to steady her as they turned to finish the trip back to Haven. Aoife sighed out a soft laugh.  
  
"Oh, you should be so lucky, The Iron Bull." She answered, leaning against him.  
  
Iron Bull helped her back into Haven and settled her at the fire near Leliana's tent. Food and drink were both pushed into her hands, and she watched the small village of Haven slowly realize the Breach was finally sealed.  
  
More than once she had to stop herself from spilling her entire mug of cider down the front of her when someone smacked her shoulder in thanks. She watched the town grow wilder with relief and felt a smile stretch across her face in response. Cassandra found her there about an hour after the sun had gone down and the festivities had hit full swing.  
  
"Solas confirms it. The Breach is sealed, with only a scar in the sky left to suggest there was anything wrong." Cassandra drew up to stand beside her. "Why aren't you celebrating? We have done what we set out to do, thanks to you." Aoife hummed a little in lieu of answering as she watched the people dancing around Haven. After a long moment, she sighed.  
  
"This was a team effort. It wasn't just me who accomplished this." She gestured to the scar in the sky. "Besides, there's still so much to be done, Cassandra. I feel like we've only just scratched the surface. Who knows how many more rifts there are, how far they've spread from here, and how many demons have slipped through those tears." Her brow furrowed deeper as she spoke. Cassandra placed a hand on Aoife's shoulder.  
  
"It is true that there is still much left to be done. And there are still many questions to answer. But this was a win. And with you, I feel like we are up to any task that lays ahead." Cassandra's voice was sure and steady, and when Aoife met her eyes, she smiled. Aoife opened her mouth to tease Cassandra about the hard-won smile when the first explosion echoed through the Valley.  
  
"What was that?" Cassandra asked, eyes scanning the horizon. Lights were beginning to flare up in the darkness on the slopes of the mountain ahead of them.  
  
"To the gate! We must find Cullen!" Aoife called, jumping down and racing toward the entrance. Cassandra was close behind her, and somewhere between the Chantry and the gate both Dorian and Iron Bull found them. Aoife arrived just in time to hear Cullen dispatching his troops, his face serious and drawn.  
  
"What's happening Cullen?" Aoife asked, catching Cullen's eyes. His mouth was twisted into a deep frown.  
  
"A massive force approaching from over the mountains." He answered. OUt of the corner of her eye, Aoife saw Josephine and Leliana join them.  
  
"Under what banners?" Josephine asked, her voice breaking. Cullen met her gaze.  
  
"None." He said softly. Aoife opened her mouth to speak when the banging began. They stared at the gates, each of them tense, before a voice shouted from outside.  
  
"Open the gate!" Aoife's breath caught in her throat as she met Dorian's eyes. His handsome face was screwed up into a strange mix of concern and confusion. "I can't come in unless you open!" Aoife glanced around to meet Cullen's eyes. They held a silent conversation before Aoife nodded and Cullen motioned for the gates to be opened.  
  
All of them stood, hands stretched toward weapons as the gate slid open.  They were all expecting something other than the frail-looking young man they found standing outside the door. He bore two bloody daggers and was surrounded by the cooling corpses of the men he'd obviously killed. He blinked pale eyes at each of them before pointing over his shoulder at the crest of a hill in the distance.  
  
"The Elder One comes for you." He told Aoife, and then the fighting began in earnest. Aoife's pulse was hammering in her throat as they raced to fix the trebuchets. When the second one was fixed, she stood for a moment, swallowing back the racing anxiety that threatened to spill out of her. The avalanche covered the main bulk of the force approaching them, and a faint rush of hope slipped into Aoife's spine. She made eye contact with Iron Bull across the small clearing the trebuchet sat in, and watched as he opened his mouth to say something to her, when there was a fucking  _ dragon _ roaring in the sky above them. A dragon that was raining hellfire upon Haven and everything around it.  
  
"Go, run! Get to the Chantry!" Aoife screamed, racing through the small village with her team. There was so much blood and screaming and fire and every swing of Aoife's knives took something vital out of her.  
  
They rescued people along the way - Lysette and Seggrit and Threnn and Adan and Minaeve and Flissa, and Aoife's heart had been beating out a panicked tattoo against the back of her throat, but she saved them all and that was something to celebrate  _ later _  - and they ushered everyone into the already crowded Chantry. The strange boy they met at the gate helped Chancellor Roderick limp in, putting pressure on a deep wound in his stomach.  
  
"He tried to stop a Templar. The blade went in deep." The boy said, settling Roderick down in a chair near the entrance. "He's going to die." The boy finished. He met Aoife's eyes and held her stare for a long moment. Chancellor Roderick huffed out a pained laugh.  
  
"What a charming boy." He murmured. Aoife's attention was split between searching the crowd for her friends and the worried looks the villagers were casting toward her. Cullen rushed up to her.  
  
"The Chantry won't hold forever." He said in a low voice. He glanced over his shoulder at the bulk of Haven crammed into the small Chantry. The rest had died in the snow. "We'll have to make our stand here, fight as long as we can." He added. A deep frown stretched across his face as he saw all the children present. Cassandra stepped up toward Cullen.  
  
"That's suicide, Commander." Cassandra warned. Cullen met her eyes with a low nod.  
  
"We're dying, Seeker. We can decide how." Cullen said, shrugging. Aoife bit her lip and cast her gaze about the Chantry again. Varric was off to her right with Solas, busily bandaging and healing a group of wounded servants. Vivienne was directing the mages to and fro with Fiona, directing healing where they could and easing pain where they couldn't. Sera had slipped to the back of the Chantry where she had managed to get all of the children in Haven tucked safely away from danger the moment the fighting had begun.   
  
"There's a way out," Roderick said softly, drawing Aoife's attention, "an old path below the Chantry. It's secret, I wouldn't know it was there if I hadn't stumbled upon it many years ago. Perhaps Andraste lead me there for this moment. It can get the villagers out to safety, such as it is." He met her eyes solemnly. "I doubted you, Herald. Let me redeem myself with this." There was a curious feeling like a weight being lifted from her shoulders when he said that, and Aoife took her first deep breath in hours.  
  
"Cullen, can you get them out?" She asked, turning to face him. Cullen nodded slowly.  
  
"Of course we can, but -" He was interrupted by Sera's loud yell.  
  
"But it won't distract a  _ fucking _ dragon, will it?!" She shouted. Aoife could see the fear and weariness on her face even in the dim light of the crowded room. Aoife made eye contact with Iron Bull, who stood just to the right of the doors. He had been watching her before she even turned to look at him, and when she met his steady gaze, he nodded. She took another deep breath.  
  
"I'll draw his attention. Cullen, help Roderick lead everyone out of the Chantry. Once you've gotten clear, send up a signal. I'll see it. And I'll bring the whole mountain down on top of him." Her voice was strong and loud in the Chantry, and she watched as Iron Bull set his shoulders.  
  
"But how will you . . ." Cullen's voice trailed off as realization set in. His mouth twitched into a small frown before he nodded. "Maybe you will surprise it and get away. Maker watch over you, Herald." He said, and he turned to begin leading the group from the Chantry.  
  
"You're not going out there alone." Dorian said, twirling his staff a little impatiently. Cassandra nodded, tightening her grip on her sword and shield. Aoife took a moment to be fiercely proud of them, and then they were off again.  
  
They fought their way through hordes of demons and corrupted Templars taking up space in town and made their way back to the one trebuchet left standing.  
  
"When that signal comes, we hit the mountain and run. We all make it out of this alive." Aoife yelled. Her team members all nodded and they stood breathless, waiting for the sign the villagers had made it out safely. And then the dragon came back. As it spit crimson fire all around them, Aoife shoved them away.  
  
"Go! GO! He doesn't want you, and he doesn't want this fucking village. He wants me! Protect the villagers! Don't let him win! I'll be right behind you!" She screamed, pushing Dorian away even as he reached out to drag her with him.  
  
For a single moment, it felt like the rift at Redcliffe again, like time had slowed down an impossible amount around them. She met each of their gazes for only a second - Iron Bull and Dorian and Cassandra - and the lingering looks from each of them made her lungs ache even more than they already were. Cassandra was the first to go, tugging Dorian with her.  
  
"You come back to us, Aoife. You have no other option. You come back!" Cassandra yelled, yanking Dorian back toward the Chantry. She could hear his loud protests even over the sound of the fires.  
  
"No. No. You can't fight this one for me, The Iron Bull. Make sure they get to the others. You make sure they make it out." Aoife yelled. Iron Bull made an aborted move, like he was going to step closer to her, when the dragon circled back around. "Go!" Aoife yelled. In the moment after Iron Bull ran back toward the Chantry, the area around her burst into flame.  
  
Aoife recoiled from the heat and watched as a  _ creature _ made its way through the flames. The horrific looking dragon circled around behind her, effectively pinning her between the trebuchet and the awful creature making its way closer.  
  
The  _ Elder One _ said his name was Corypheus, with all the weight of someone who believes that what they say should mean something. Aoife tried to listen, but between the fire and the screaming and the ache in her arm - an ache that only magnified when he tried to rip the anchor from her by force, and she promised herself in that moment that if she made it out of this alive, she was going to make him  _ hurt _ \- she didn't track much of the conversation. Before the creature could strike her down, though, Aoife saw the flaming arrow rise high above the darkened village. A wicked lance of joy ripped through her at the sight of that tiny light in the sky.  
  
"Your arrogance blinds you. Good to know." Aoife said, cutting off Corypheus with a triumphant grin as she cut the counterweight to the trebuchet. The large rock launched toward the mountain above Haven with impressive speed and impacted with such a force that Aoife felt it even miles away. When the avalanche came rolling after, Aoife watched the slow descent of the flaming arrow Sera had shot to let her know they'd made it out safely.  
  
The knowledge of their escape made it so much easier for her to say goodbye.


	28. twenty-eight - Harvestmere 9:41 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And she knows it, and to save me the trouble of ruining any of my robes, she's going to live."
> 
> "Yeah, you are a little too pretty for that, aren't you?"

**Twenty-Eight. Harvestmere 9:41 Dragon**

 

They made it up the mountain as a whole, but Dorian and Iron Bull lingered behind.  
  
"We'll watch the rear and take care of anything stupid enough to follow. Cassandra, I think it would be best if you joined the Commander and helped lead the way." Dorian said, but his eyes were on the path behind them for any sight of Aoife. Cassandra stood by his side for a moment longer before she nodded and moved swiftly toward the head of the group where Cullen could be heard shouting directions.  
  
They moved up the mountain slowly, slower than Iron Bull would have liked when retreating from something called the  _ Elder One _ , but he didn't want to leave too far ahead of Aoife either.  
  
When the mountain came down, loud and devastating, and there was still no sign of Aoife's retreat, Dorian's grip on his staff tightened enough that he felt the joints in his hand crack. And ache started rising in his throat, made more potent with each minute that there was no sign of Aoife following.  
  
He hid his face in the collar of his robes, watching the small village below being swallowed up by so much snow. As the echo of the avalanche rolled through the valley, Dorian  _ hoped _ . Hoped and wished like he'd never thought to do before, almost like praying.  
  
Despite only knowing her for a few short weeks, Aoife was the first person he'd liked well enough to start to trust, other than Felix. He had been close to believing she could save them all; still might, he thought, if she managed to make it out of the latest debacle.  
  
He stared hard down the path they'd just walked, hoping there would be enough of a trail for her to follow and that the snow wouldn't cover it all. He glanced to where Iron Bull was standing beside him. Etched across his scarred face was so much naked ache and worry that Dorian's breath caught in his throat. He wondered if Iron Bull knew it was there. For a man never caught unawares, he had to know Dorian was watching him. Dorian wondered what it meant that he didn't try to hide his feelings then.  
  
"She's going to live." Dorian said, and he surprised himself with the ferocity in his voice, but it didn't shake. Not even a shiver. Iron Bull didn't look at him, but resolve hardened on his face.  
  
"Of course she is. She's the Boss." Iron Bull answered, almost flippant.  
  
"No, look at me." Dorian insisted, turning just enough to meet Iron Bull's eye. "That woman is going to live, because if she doesn't, I am marching back into those ruins and resurrecting her long enough to nag her back to death for all the undue heartache and suffering she's going to cause me. And she knows it, and to save me the trouble of ruining any of my robes, she's going to live." The joke was thin, thinner than the cold air whipping around them, but something about it gave Iron Bull just enough relief to smile.  
  
"Yeah, you  _ are _ a little too pretty for that, aren't you?" Iron Bull's grin was just this side of forced, but Dorian took it for what it was.  
  
"Too right. Now, I expect she'll be along shortly. Let's make sure she has someone to come back to, shall we?" Dorian said, moving further along the path after the rest of the villagers. If Iron Bull heard the brittle edge of Dorian's words, he was kind enough not to mention it to the man.  
  
And the two made their way up the mountain.

* * *

  
Aoife woke with a start in a tunnel she hadn't previously known existed. She laid on the cold ground and stared up at the ceiling above her, wondering if they'd all made it to safety.  
  
As she laid there, she took stock of her injuries. There was a numbness in the fingers of her left hand that spoke to either a dislocated shoulder or a pinched nerve.  
  
 _Perhaps both_ , she thought as she slowly wiggled her fingers. She sat up on the floor of the tunnel and spat out a mouthful of blood. There was a cut inside her mouth, and she could feel her heartbeat in her tongue from a nasty bite that must have happened as she fell. After a long moment of shallow breathing, she shifted to wrench her shoulder back into place. As she did so, she could just hear Valen in her mind screaming.  
  
 _"NO, kit, haven't I taught you anything?! That's completely improper! You're going to hurt yourself more, and who's going to take care of you then?!"  
  
_ "Certainly not you," Aoife grumbled to herself. She didn't have the time or inclination to put the joint back correctly. It hurt like hell going back into place, enough that she almost bit her tongue again, but it gave her enough raw adrenaline to push herself back onto her feet.  
  
She stood still for just a moment, gaining her bearings, before pushing forward. There was nowhere to go behind - the snow and rubble had covered whatever entrance she'd fallen through, and there was no promise that Haven was cleared of enemies regardless. She limped along the path before bracing herself against the wall to keep her balance as she walked. When her right knee threatened to give out from under her, she paused to take a deep breath.  
  
Sharp pain shot through her from what were probably several bruised if not cracked or broken ribs. She took another deep breath, much slower the second time, to work some of the ache out. After a long minute of slow, deep breaths, she stood as straight as she could and kept making her way down the hallway.  
  
She finally found herself in a large room that opened out to the elements. There was a destroyed cart just outside the room with a softly glowing torch tucked up out of the wind just against the side of it. She smiled despite herself.  
  
"There." She said to herself, and she made her way toward the hole in the wall. Before she could make it all the way across however, a rift appeared just ahead of her. Several Despair demons slipped through the glowing rift and surrounded her. Aoife wearily reached for her knives as the mark in her palm somehow __pulsed and a wave of energy exploded from the rift and destroyed the Despair demons in a quick moment. Aoife closed the rift quickly and stared at her hand for a moment before sighing.  
  
"Well, that's new. Can't wait to show off my new party trick. It's hard to guess who's going to mother me worse, Dorian or Varric." Aoife took a careful look around the rest of the room, searching for supplies or anything salvageable, before shoring up her courage and making her way out into the elements.  
  
She was able to see a makeshift trail of wreckage heading away from Haven and, without seeing any other kind of path to follow, she followed that.  
  
She hiked and crawled and begged her way through the miles of snow that stood between the ruins of Haven and the people she loved. She wondered exactly how far ahead they'd made it. If all of them had made it out safely, or if there had been someone lost and left behind.  
  
She didn't know what kind of fortune she had that had lead her to this point in her life, but when she collapsed in the snow after hearing Cullen and Cassandra's beautiful shouts of surprise and relief, she thought perhaps it was the kind of fortune she could do with a little less of.  
  
She stayed conscious just enough to be carried back to camp and desperately warn them about Corypheus. When Vivienne arrived to begin the healing process, she passed out in Cullen's arms.  
  
When she dreamed, it was of Siobhan and Valen, and fire, and screaming.


	29. twenty-nine - Harvestmere 9:41 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Thank you, Solas."
> 
> "You need not thank me for that. Anyone with working eyes could see that you were ready to bolt. I just got to you first."

**Twenty-Nine. Harvestmere 9:41 Dragon**

 

Aoife woke again two days later.  
  
Vivienne had healed as much of her injuries as she was able to without exhausting herself, focusing on her ribs and injured shoulder first, and Mother Giselle had cleaned and wrapped all of the rest. Angry voices were echoing toward her as she drifted awake. Cullen, Cassandra, and Leliana were all arguing, shouting between the tents, while Josephine desperately tried to keep the peace.  
  
Aoife lay there and listened to them fighting for a long moment before she realized there was someone sitting at her bedside.  
  
"Is this going to become a regular occurance, The Iron Bull?" Aoife asked, and she had aimed for humor but with the way her voice had cracked it just sounded soft and fond. Iron Bull studied her for a long moment before answering on a sigh.  
  
"I should hope not, but you never know, Boss. I thought you might feel better if you had a friendly face around when you woke up." He shifted to hitch a blanket up higher around her shoulders. Aoife hadn't even noticed she was shivering. "No one else was available though, so you'll just have to make do with mine." Aoife huffed out a soft laugh, wincing when it twinged her ribs.  
  
"Did we lose anyone?" She asked him. Anyone else would have hidden it from her, or argued that she didn't need to worry about it, but he had yet to lie to her about anything that mattered. His eye was somber when he spoke.  
  
"Less than we could have. More than we'd have liked." Iron Bull kept his voice low as he spoke. Aoife nodded and turned her gaze to the poles holding up the top of the tent. They sat in relative silence for a little while longer, long enough for Aoife to nearly drift back into sleep.  
  
"Boss," Iron Bull began, one hand reaching out to push her hair back from her face. Aoife hummed a response back, turning into the small touch. She heard Iron Bull sigh heavily. "I'm glad you made it."  
  
In a smooth move he leaned down to kiss her forehead gently before standing and heading out toward the opening of the tent. "I'll send Mother Giselle in to sit with you." He said, and then he was gone.  
  
Aoife drifted into a comfortable snooze, waking again when Mother Giselle came into the tent some ten minutes later. The arguing had slowed to a low rumble by then, and Mother Giselle's eyes were pleased when she saw Aoife awake.  
  
"I am glad to see you awake, Herald." She pointedly ignored Aoife's wince at the title and moved to sit down in the chair Iron Bull had vacated.  
  
"I see the cold hasn't cooled their tempers any." Aoife said, motioning toward the growing sounds of another argument from outside the tent. Mother Giselle listened to the rumble outside for a moment.  
  
"They are all trying so hard to keep us safe. Their different approaches to that matter is what causes such disagreements. Thanks to you, they have the luxury of fighting amongst themselves." Aoife didn't know how much of a luxury infighting really was, but she didn't argue. The longer she laid there, watching Mother Giselle smile gently at her, the more she felt the deep well of anxiety that lived inside her threatening to overflow. She pushed herself into a sitting position with more effort than she'd have liked.  
  
"Mother Giselle," Aoife began, unsure why she was asking in the first place, "Corypheus, that  _ awful _ creature, said he'd entered the Fade. That he found the seat of the Maker, and it was empty. That there was no one there to save us after all." Mother Giselle's eyes were kind as she watched Aoife struggle through the question. Aoife wasn't sure why she needed an answer so badly; she'd never believed in the Maker before, and wasn't likely to start. She had barely believed in her  _ own _ gods as a child. But something about Corypheus' angry words had rattled her.  
  
"Magisters entered the Fade, seeking the Golden City, and were punished for their hubris. The Maker would not appear before a being so twisted and full of sin as Corypheus. If we are to believe what this creature says, and he did breach the Fade in search of the Maker, it is no stretch to believe he found nothing but disappointment there." Mother Giselle said, taking Aoife's hand in hers gently.  
  
"But, if there's nothing there to believe in, why does it matter? Why does any of this matter if we're all on our own down here?" Aoife asked, her anxiety mounting.  
  
"That is hard to accept, no? What  _ we _ have been called to endure? What  _ we _ perhaps, must come to believe? That faith may play a greater part in this fight than anyone could have anticipated?" She asked, meeting Aoife's anxious stare head on.  
  
"I want to believe, Mother Giselle. I want to believe that in all of this awfulness, there is something good moving. That all of this is worth something in the end. But I don't know if belief is enough to carry something as big as the Inquisition." Aoife said after a long moment of silence.  
  
"Corypheus believes," Mother Giselle began, "and he believes  _ hard _ . It is not a question of whether or not belief matters. It is a question of what you are going to  _ do _ with that belief, and how you are going to use it to fight someone who  _ believes _ that what he is fighting for is the truth." She said. Aoife frowned.  
  
"I just don't see how what I believe can make so much of a difference. I am only one person." She confessed.  
  
The four that had been arguing outside of the tent had since quieted, and after her question she felt like the whole world was waiting for Mother Giselle's answer. Mother Giselle squeezed her hand tightly before walking to the opening of the tent. Aoife shifted out of her cot, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders to keep as much warmth close as possible. Aoife watched her closely, desperate for an answer.  
  
And then, the singing started.  
  
Mother Giselle's voice rang out first, a deep, rich alto. And then there were other voices joining in. Leliana's first, then Josephine and Cullen. More and more voices joining, until Aoife was surrounded by people on their knees with their voices lifted triumphantly.  
  
_ They're singing to me _ , Aoife thought, numbly.  _ Maker's saggy ball sack, they're all singing to me. _ Mother Giselle turned to her when the song finished, the last few notes still echoing through the small clearing.  
  
"Believe what you must, Herald. But believe  _ something _ . Belief and hope are what we must cling to when there is nothing else left. And that is worth fighting for, Herald." She gestured out at the people in the small clearing. Her gaze, coupled with the people still surrounding them, was suddenly too much. Aoife was drowning in their devotion to her, their ultimate belief that she was some sort of chosen one. She glanced around furtively, looking for an escape, when Solas appeared at her elbow.  
  
"A word?" He murmured, his voice low and controlled. Aoife could have kissed him in that moment. He lead her from the crowded group to the edge of the camp, lighting a small sconce with flickering green veilfire.  
  
"Thank you, Solas." Aoife said, glancing over her shoulder at the camp. She heard Solas snort with amusement.  
  
"You need not thank me for that. Anyone with working eyes could see that you were ready to bolt. I just got to you first." He said. Aoife nodded her head and gave him a small smile. "And I did hope to speak with you about what happened in Haven, if you are feeling up to it. I understand that it may still be difficult." Solas said, and despite the fact that his words gave her an obvious out, his tone was serious and urgent. Aoife inclined her head before tugging the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Solas waved a hand and she felt a wash of warmth tumble over her. She smiled at him gratefully.  
  
"The orb he carries is Elvhen," Solas said, meeting her gaze evenly, "it is an ancient magical artifact designed to store and focus massive amounts of magical power. I have seen such things in my travels through the Fade. We must learn how he has acquired it, how he managed to unlock the power contained inside, and we must prepare for their response when they learn the orb is of our people."  
  
Alarm bells were quietly ringing in the back of Aoife's mind. She'd told Cullen and Cassandra about Corypheus - in short, gasping words before she'd passed out - but she hadn't told them anything about the strange orb he'd carried. It hadn't seemed terribly important in the moment before she'd gone unconscious, and no one else had been in the clearing with her. And it was the first time that Solas had claimed any shared heritage with her at all, despite calling her  _ lethallan _ . She narrowed her eyes slightly before nodding.  
  
"You're right, of course. We need to be careful." She wasn't sure they were talking about the same kind of careful, but when Solas smiled approvingly at her she guessed the answer would stand for the meantime.  
  
"I shall keep my eye out for any other such artifacts that might be found. We would do well to keep them out of his hands. For now, though, the Inquisition is homeless. And they see you as their leader, their shining beacon of hope. So lead them. I know a place. It has been protected by time and its remoteness. It will serve them well. And in turn, they will serve  _ you _ well." Solas said, offering her an arm as he escorted her back to her tent. "I will relay the information to the Commander, and then when you are ready, I will scout ahead with you."  
  
Aoife caught sight of Iron Bull as Solas lead her back to her tent. Iron Bull watched them across the campfire with a narrowed eye. Aoife shook her head and gave him a slight wave. He frowned, but nodded back at her.  
  
"That sounds fine, Solas. Thank you for telling me." She said. Solas took her left hand in his and sent a gentle wave of healing through the marked palm.  
  
"Of course. Now, rest. I'm sure that now that you're awake someone will be along shortly to bring you something to eat. If you would like, I can keep watch over your dreams to ensure that they are kind." Solas offered. Aoife paused for a moment to consider before she shook her head.  
  
"Thank you, Solas. The offer is kind, but I'm so tired, I doubt I'll dream at all tonight." She said. Solas inclined his head in response.  
  
"Of course. Have a good evening,  _ lethallan _ . Rest well." Solas made sure she had settled herself on her cot before he left the tent with another smile. Aoife didn't really know how to trust him - not yet, and maybe not ever, if she couldn't manage to figure him out - but he had saved her from the errant worship of scared humans, and if Shartan was anything to go by, elves had died for less. So when she fell asleep moments later, she decided to take his offer of shelter in good faith. And hope that it wouldn't come back to bite her in the end.   
  


* * *

  
_ Shadows fall, and hope has fled. Steel your heart, the dawn will come. The night is long and the path is dark. Look to the sky, for one day soon the dawn will come. The Shephard's lost, and his home is far. Keep to the stars, the dawn will come. The night is long, and the path is dark. Look to the sky, for one day soon the dawn will come. Bare your blade and raise it high. Stand your ground, the dawn will come. The night is long, and the path is dark. Look to the sky, for one day soon, the dawn will come. _


	30. thirty - Firstfall 9:41 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well, this is certainly an upgrade."
> 
> "Sure, but at what cost?"
> 
> "The very worst kind."

**Thirty. Firstfall 9:41 Dragon**

 

The castle that Solas led them to was just shy of dilapidated. Aoife stared at it from the ridge the two of them had stopped to scout on, far ahead of the rest of the group.  
  
The battlements were crumbling, and even from this far away she could see the broken stairways and torn banners littering the walls. She stood there,waiting for Cassandra and the others to join them, but hesitant to accept such a thing.  
  
"It doesn't look like much, I will admit," Solas said, leaning on his staff and staring fondly across the way, "but the things I have seen in the Fade tell me that this is a highly defensible spot. No army has ever breached the walls of Skyhold." He motioned to the deep valley surrounding the castle, suggesting a clear line of sight. There was a bridge that connected the castle to a path that wound down into the canyon, which seemed to be its only route of access. Aoife nodded her head slowly.  
  
"Yes, with that one point of entry and miles of sightlines, it would be difficult to take anyone by surprise in there." She agreed. A slight frown crossed her face. "It would also be difficult to evacuate, should we have another incident like Haven." She told him. Solas gave her a brief smile.  
  
"Skyhold is more than she appears. There's space enough in the grounds for a fully functional garden. Old magic imbued in the bricks themselves allow food to be grown in the soil, even when it should be frozen solid. There's space for stables and merchants, even a small village. And there are empty towers and rooms aplenty that are waiting to be filled. It is defensible, can support itself without outside influence, and is easily enough fixed with a little time and determination. Both of which are things we have in abundance." Solas' face was the picture of contentment as he stared at the castle across from him.  
  
_ Like coming home _ , Aoife thought suddenly. She opened her mouth to say something - although what, she hadn't really thought out - when Cassandra caught up with them.  
  
"What's going on? Why have we -" Cassandra asked, before she caught sight of the crumbling castle across from them. "What is this place?" She asked, glancing between the two of them.  
  
"Its name is Skyhold, and it waits for a force to take it." Solas answered, pointing to the castle before them. Hope bloomed in Cassandra's face, more than Aoife had seen in the entire two weeks since Haven fell.  
  
"It stands empty?" Cassandra asked, moving closer to the ridge they stood on to get a better look. Solas hummed an affirmation.  
  
"As she has stood for generations. Old magic has protected this place, allowing it to wait for one who needed it most." He answered. Cassandra looked over her shoulder to catch Aoife's eye, and in the face of her friends' want, she was helpless.  
  
"Let's take our people home, Cassandra." Aoife suggested. Cassandra's answering smile was nothing short of beautiful.  
  
Aoife walked between the crowd as they made their final approach into Skyhold, watching the transformation on all of their faces. It was clear to her, as she made her way back toward the tail end of the group where Dorian walked, that the people of Haven saw something entirely different than she did when they looked at Skyhold.  
  
They didn't see a castle on a hill, or a crumbling relic of an age long past. They saw a  _ home _ . And that alone was enough for Aoife.  
  
"Well," Dorian said as they made their way through the gates, "this is certainly an upgrade." He craned his neck to stare up at the high towers. Aoife shrugged.  
  
"Sure, but at what cost?" She mumbled. Dorian tucked her arm in his.  
  
"The very worst kind." He answered. He gave her a tight smile before tugging her deeper into the grounds. "Come. Let's see who needs our delightful presence first, shall we?"  
  
The next two weeks were difficult. There was a lot of work to do in getting Skyhold back into shape. Everyone who was able to work was tasked with something to do. Aoife split her time between war council meetings and helping the cooks in the kitchens. Even if she didn't know how to cook anything reliably other than stew, stew went a long way when you had many mouths to feed and minimal ingredients.  
  
One afternoon, Cassandra snagged Aoife as she was running across the grounds toward the kitchens.  
  
"They arrive daily, from every settlement in the region. Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage." Cassandra nodded around the grounds at the many people that had gathered. She nodded toward the main staircase on the grounds and Aoife followed. "If word has reached these people, it will have reached the Elder One. We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here, but this threat is far beyond the war we anticipated in the beginning. But we now know what allowed you to stand against Corypheus, what drew him to you." Cassandra crested the stairs and turned to look at Aoife. Aoife frowned down at her left hand.  
  
"He wanted  _ this _ , and now it's useless to him, so he wants me dead. That's it." She insisted. She met Cassandra's eyes.  
  
"The anchor has power, but it's not why you're still standing here." Cassandra agreed, leading Aoife into the upper courtyards and up the main steps into Skyhold. "Your decisions have let us heal the sky. Your determination brought us out of Haven. You are the creature's rival because of what  _ you _ did, and we know it. All of us." They made it to the landing on the stairs and Aoife caught sight of Leliana approaching them. In her hands was a beautifully made sword, its handle decorated with the image of a dragon coiled to fight. "The Inquisition needs a leader. The one who has  _ already _ been leading it. You." Cassandra finished. Aoife glanced between the two women before looking down into the lower courtyards. The was a crowd beginning to gather at the base of the steps. She saw Josephine and Cullen in the middle of the crowd, smiling up at her.  
  
"You all agreed to this?" Aoife asked, shocked. "You all have that much confidence in me?" She turned to face Cassandra.  
  
"All of these people have their lives because of you. They will follow." Cassandra said. Aoife shook her head.  
  
"That wasn't the question I asked, Cassandra." Aoife pointed out.  
  
"I will not lie, handing this power to anyone is troubling. But I have to believe this is meant to be." Cassandra motioned toward Leliana. "There would be no Inquisition without you. How it will serve, how you will lead, that is a choice for you to decide." Aoife took a cautious step forward. She stared at the beautiful sword in Leliana's hands for a long moment before reaching out and taking it by the handle. She stared at the blade as she spoke.  
  
"Corypheus will never let us live in peace. He made that very clear to me back in Haven. He intends to be a god, to rule over us all. Corypheus  _ must _ be stopped. And all others like him." Aoife said, turning to look at the gathered crowd. Cassandra inclined her head.  
  
"Wherever you lead us." She walked to the edge of the landing, and sought out Cullen and Josephine's gaze. "Have our people been told?" She called down to them. Josephine stepped forward, barely able to contain the grin on her face.  
  
"They have. And soon, the world." She announced. Cassandra nodded.  
  
"Commander, will they follow?" She called down to Cullen. Cullen turned to face the gathered soldiers and people in the crowd.  
  
"Inquisition! Will you follow?" A great cry went up from the crowd before them. "Will you fight?" He asked, and another cry went up. "Will we triumph?!" He shouted, and this last agreement was louder than any of the others. "Your leader, your Herald, your Inquisitor!" He shouted, baring his sword in a clear salute to Aoife. The crowd around him went mad for it.  
  
In a moment of desperation, Aoife cast her eyes through the crowd. She caught sight of Iron Bull standing near the back of the crowd, leaning against the wall of a side staircase. She caught the smile that stretched all the way across his face, and he nodded toward her. Something about it eased the rising panic in her chest. Aoife shored up her courage and lifted the heavy sword high above her in a salute to the crowd below. For better or worse, it seemed she was in charge for good.  
  
She reconvened with her war council in the main hall of Skyhold. It was strange to think that it was all  _ hers _ now, and probably had been for quite some time. They talked through what little they knew about Corypheus and his plans, and the concern about the threat he posed to Orlais. Finally, Aoife sighed.  
  
"Look, frankly, right now we've got to choose between the problems we want to deal with. We've got hungry people right in front of us, and that's a problem we can fix soon, if not now. That doesn' t make Corypheus any less of a threat, it just makes him one that we aren't equipped to fight right now. We've got to take care of the people with us now, and make Skyhold ready for the people that are apparently still coming." She crossed her arms over her chest, watching Josephine scribbling furiously over her writing pad. Leliana nodded in agreement and sighed.  
  
"I'd just feel so much better if we knew  _ exactly _ what it was we were dealing with when it came to Corypheus." She mused. Aoife caught sight of Varric entering the hall just over Leliana's shoulder.  
  
"I know someone who might be able to help with that." He said, cutting into their little group. The others turned to face him and he grinned in a way that might have been a little sheepish. "Everyone acting all inspirational jogged my memory, so I, uh, I sent a message to an old friend. He's crossed paths with Corypheus before and may know more about what he's up to. He can help." Varric insisted. Aoife sighed lightly.  
  
"Well, I'll take any help that I can get at this point, Varric. Introduce me to this old friend of yours." Aoife said. Varric glanced over his shoulder.  
  
"Uh, parading around might cause a fuss, if you know what I mean. It's better for you to meet privately, on the battlements. Trust me, it's complicated." Varric sighed before turning and walking out of the hall. Aoife watched him walk away while muttering to himself. Josephine took a quick breath before turning to Aoife with a smile.  
  
"Well, we stand ready to move on this, and all other concerns." Josephine said brightly, making another note on her writing sheet. Cullen nodded.  
  
"On your order, Inquisitor." He agreed. Aoife gave them all a bland look.  
  
"My name is still Aoife, Cullen." She said, even though she knew it was pointless. Leliana shifted beside Aoife and a wide grin crossed her face.  
  
"I know one thing. If Varric has brought who I  _ think _ he has, Cassandra is going to kill him." She said brightly. Aoife shot her a look and Leliana shrugged. She ran a hand through her hair, tugging it out of the loose braid she'd thrown it in that morning.  
  
"Well, time to go and save my favorite dwarf, then." She said, waving as she walked out of the room. She made her way up the battlements, dodging the furiously pacing Cassandra, and headed up the side stairs by the tavern. As she reached the top of the stairs, she saw Varric standing with two people. One was built tall and thick, with a messy head of black hair that she recognized instantly.  
  
"Oh, Cassandra is going to  _ murder _ you, Varric." Aoife said lowly.Varric turned to meet her grinning face with a smile of his own. He shrugged.  
  
"Eh, I'll take my chances. Inquisitor, meet the Champion of Kirkwall." Varric motioned to where Garrett Hawke stood beside him. Hawke turned and met Aoife's eyes and a large grin crossed his face.  
  
"Well, if it isn't my favorite little stew maker!" Hawke exclaimed, stepping forward to wrap Aoife in a tight hug. She accepted the hug grudgingly, as there was no way to get out of it, and waved at Fenris who had turned to lean against the wall behind them. He gave her a polite nod in response. Varric shot Hawke a confused glance.  
  
"You know Twist?" Varric asked. Hawke nodded as he set Aoife back on her own feet.  
  
"Sure, she's great! So you're the Inquisitor now, huh?" Hawke said. Aoife sighed. She watched as Varric, muttering and shaking his head, made his way over to a collection of wine bottles standing nearby. He uncorked one and took a long drink from it. She thought she understood how he might feel.  
  
"It certainly seems that way." Aoife agreed. Hawke grinned at her briefly before the smile was replaced with a look of concern.  
  
"And Corypheus is back." He murmured. Aoife nodded again.  
  
"It certainly seems that way as well." She sighed. Hawke glanced back toward Varric, who had dragged Fenris into drinking with him.  
  
"Thank you for keeping him safe, Aoife." Hawke said, placing a large hand on her shoulder. Aoife smiled back tightly.  
  
"I'm afraid he's done more for me than I ever could do for him." She answered. Hawke smiled back at her, a smile of deep understanding.  
  
"Varric's good like that." He nodded. Aoife smiled before turning to lean against the wall nearby.  
  
"Now, tell me what you know about Corypheus." She prompted. Hawke sighed heavily.  
  
"I might need alcohol for this." He warned, before launching into the tale. By the end of it, Aoife's frown was etched deeply onto her face and Fenris had come to stand protectively by Hawke's side.  
  
"So, the long and short of it is that the Wardens are disappearing, perhaps under Corypheus' control, and he maybe can't be killed. Great. Thanks for the news, Hawke. Always nice to see you." Aoife grumbled. Hawke gave her a tight smile.  
  
"Well, not all news can be good news. I'm headed to Crestwood to meet with my contact in the Wardens. Meet us there as soon as you can. We need to get to the bottom of all of this quickly." He said quietly. Aoife nodded.  
  
"Sure. Let me get Skyhold up and running and I'll see what I can do." Aoife agreed. Hawke clapped her on the shoulder again before the three of them left her there on the battlements by herself. She spent a long time staring unseeingly at the grounds before she made her way down to find Leliana. There was a lot of work to be done.


	31. thirty-one - Wintermarch 9:42 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know, I gotta admit Twist, this isn't my least favorite place we've been to, but it's working its way up the list."
> 
> "I'll make note of that, thank you."
> 
> "I do what I can."

**Thirty-One. Wintermarch 9:42 Dragon**

 

The path they cut through the Exalted Plains to get to Solas' friend was littered with demons and undead. Aoife grimaced as she wiped the dark blood off her knives and stared at the pile of bodies littered around them.  
  
"You know, I gotta admit, Twist," Varric drawled as he came to stand beside her, "this isn't my least favorite place we've been to, but it's working its way up the list." Aoife grinned over at him.  
  
"I'll make note of that, thank you Varric." She said magnanimously. Varric grinned.  
  
"I do what I can, Twist. It's a service few provide." He demurred. Aoife laughed softly. Solas came to stand beside them.  
  
"We're nearing the place I heard my friend call out to me. We should hurry." He urged. Aoife nodded and let him lead the way.  
  
When they found the mages shortly thereafter, they were scared. Solas' fury was barely leashed as he rounded on them.  
  
"What can we do to help?" Aoife asked him, voice soft. He snarled under his breath and the mages and turned to stare at the demon that had once been his friend. He pointed to the towers surrounding it.  
  
"Break the summoning circle. No circle, no compulsion to kill, no demon." He growled. Aoife nodded and took a step toward the nearest column. One of the mages reached out for her, crying out.  
  
"No! If you do that, that thing will kill us!" He shouted. Aoife shrugged him off.  
  
"It would be no less than you deserved." Solas growled. "Aim for the columns. Don't attack the demon."  
  
It was difficult to fight around a Pride demon bent on destroying them, but when the last column was broken, a flash of light surrounded the Pride demon. When the light dimmed, in its place knelt the image of a woman. Aoife came to stand behind Solas as he spoke with his friend in quiet elvhen.  
  
" _ My friend, I'm sorry _ ." Solas said, his eyes full of sorrow. The spirit before him shook its head.  
  
" _ I'm not sorry. I'm happy. I'm me again _ ." They glanced down before meeting his eyes again. " _ You helped me. Now you must endure. Guide me into death _ ." A deep frown crossed Solas' face and he glanced away. Aoife shifted closer.  
  
" _ As you say _ ." He whispered. He waved his hands and the spirit faded away. " _ Farewell _ ."  
  
"I heard what your friend said. They were right. You did help them." Aoife said quietly. Solas nodded.  
  
"Yes. And now, I must endure." He stood and turned to face her.  
  
"Let me know if I can help. Please." Aoife offered. Solas gave her a brief smile.  
  
"You already have." He promised. He turned to face the mages that had summoned Wisdom. "All that remains now is  _ them _ ." He snarled.  
  
"Thank you. We would not have risked a summoning, but the roads are too dangerous to travel unprotected." One of the mages said, relief clear in his face. Solas advanced on the man with quick, angry steps.  
  
"You  _ tortured _ and  _ killed _ my friend!" His voice was rough as he spoke. The man took quick steps backwards. "We didn't know it was just a spirit! The book said it could help us!" He admitted. Solas was quickly closing the space between them, murder intent on his face.  
  
"Solas," Aoife said softly, reaching out to him. Solas shook off her hand, but stopped advancing on the scared mages. He pinned them in place with a glare.  
  
" _ Never _ again." He growled. The mages nodded and backed away until they were far enough to run. Solas watched them go with barely restrained fury. He glanced over his shoulder at Aoife. "I need some time alone. I will meet you back at Skyhold." He said, before walking away from them into the hills.  
  
Aoife watched him walk away, standing still with Varric and Cassandra. It was a long moment before Cassandra placed a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Come, we should find the Dalish clan that Scout Harding mentioned. We may be able to offer them some assistance." Cassandra said. Aoife nodded, and they made their way across the river.  
  
After a long month of clearing out undead and the Freemen from the Exalted Plains, Aoife was glad to finally make it back to Skyhold. They'd managed to clear the Eastern and Western ramparts of the undead, as well as killing the demons in Var Bellanaris , and Keeper Hawen had appreciated their help so much that he'd agreed to send along one of their hunters who was eager to help. Loranil had quickly set about endearing himself to Cassandra and Varric, and he'd been a helpful presence in their team throughout the Plains. She was confident he'd be able to find the place he fit in best once they'd returned to Skyhold, and in the two days they'd been back, she'd seen him flitting between squads, eager to run any errand or do any task asked of him.  
  
As she was walking across the lower courtyard, she caught sight of Solas entering through the gates. He made his way over to her and stopped when they were within arms reach of each other.  
  
"Inquisitor." He greeted mildly.  
  
"I guess I owe Varric an ale, then. When we returned to find you still gone, I wasn't sure you were coming back." She admitted softly. He shook his head.  
  
"Neither was I, for a time. But only a short time. You were a true friend, Aoife. You did everything you could to help. I could hardly abandon you now." He replied. Aoife made an aborted move to take his hand in hers.  
  
"Meaning you may abandon me later?" She asked. Solas' lips twitched.  
  
"Meaning, there is nowhere else I'd rather be. I do not know what the future holds, but I know that you will have a hand in shaping it. I should like to help in whatever way I can." He corrected. Aoife studied him.  
  
"Where did you go?" She asked him. He stepped closer to her.  
  
"I found a quiet spot and went to sleep. I visited the place in the Fade where my friend used to be. It's empty, but there are stirrings of energy in the void. Someday, something new might grow there." His voice was quiet, but hopeful. Aoife took a deep breath.  
  
"What happens when a spirit dies?" She asked him. Solas sighed.  
  
"It isn't the same as it is for mortals. The energy of spirits returns to the Fade. If the idea giving the spirit form is strong, or if the memory of it has shaped other spirits, it may someday rise again." He told her. Aoife frowned.  
  
"You're saying your friend might come back?" Her brow furrowed as she considered this. He shook his head.  
  
"No, not really. A spirit's natural state is peaceful semi-existence. It is rare for it to be able to reflect reality. Something similar may reform one day, but it might have a different personality. It would likely not remember me. It would not be the friend I knew." His eyes were sad as he spoke. Aoife reached out and took one of his hands then.  
  
"I'm sorry your friend is gone, Solas." Aoife told him. He gave her a small smile.  
  
"As am I, Inquisitor. But I am glad to have found another in you." He gave her hand a small squeeze and made his way into the castle.  
  
Things were quiet around the castle for another week or so, before Solas caught wind of their Dalish recruit.  
  
"We're recruiting the Dalish now, are we?" He asked her in passing. Aoife stopped on her way to the stairs up the rotunda and glanced over her shoulder at him.  
  
"Problem?" She asked, her voice short. Solas snorted, laying down the book he'd been thumbing through, and gave her a wry look.  
  
"Hardly." He answered. Aoife sighed and turned to face him.  
  
"Alright, let's have this discussion now." She said. "What exactly is your problem with the Dalish? You've complained quiet a lot, but have yet to get around to the point of your issue." She said pointedly. Solas narrowed his eyes.  
  
"The Dalish are as children, acting out stories misheard and repeated a thousand times." He began, standing from his chair and stepping around his desk toward her. "I've tried to share my knowledge of the Fade with the Dalish before, but they reacted with anger, threatening violence. They congratulate themselves on being true elvhen, better than their city-living cousins, but they are all shadows of what we once were." He was beginning to gain steam. Aoife snorted.  
  
" _ Ir abelas, hahren _ . What would you have the Dalish do, then?" She asked lightly, eyebrows arched in aggravation. Solas either didn't notice or didn't care about the pitched tone of her voice. She caught sight of Dorian leaning over the railing above them, looking incredibly entertained.   
  
"I would have you all abandon your archaic and, frankly, barbaric practices and see the truth. Your people -" He began, and Aoife interrupted.  
  
" _ My _ people?" She asked, eyes narrowed. "Are we not of the same people?" Solas snorted a short laugh.  
  
"Your people are not  _ my _ people. The Dalish are narrow-minded and short-sighted. Their rituals are hollow, barbaric things that could never hope to live up to the rituals of elvhenan. The fact that they could create someone as wise as you are is a constant source of wonder to me. Of all the Dalish I've met, only you have been able to overcome the burden of your heritage and -" Solas was interrupted again by Aoife's fist crashing into his cheekbone. The punch surprised him, knocked him off balance and down onto his knees, and Aoife glared down at him.  
  
"Maybe the Dalish  _ are _ wrong, Solas. You know so much more about it than I could ever hope to, and I never was a very good student anyway, so I can't argue one way or another about all that. And maybe the clans you've come across did fight back against you and your knowledge violently. But did you  _ try _ to share that knowledge with them in a way that was not antagonistic? Or did you shove it at them with the absolutely horrific way you've got when you know something someone else doesn't and you think they should?" Aoife snarled down at him. She was aware of the growing crowd on the level above them, but she didn't care.  
  
"Only  _ I _ have managed to  _ overcome _ the  _ burden _ of my heritage? I may be barely Dalish, but I'm still Dalish, and I get to decide what that means. Your experiences with the Dalish are limited, you've met only a small group that you  _ lowered _ yourself to talk to, and you've no right to judge them all by the small collection of elvhen that you've deigned to interact with. Elvhen knowledge could help us all, and you don't get to gatekeep that knowledge and pick and choose which elves are worthy of it simply because you don't like the way they honor the only fucking traditions they've ever known." Solas had a hand pressed to the reddening mark on his face. He frowned up at her and opened his mouth to speak but Aoife held up a hand.  
  
"Unless whatever is about to come out of your mouth is an apology, I don't care what you have to say. I'm sorry I punched you. I will absolutely fucking do it again if I need to." She promised him, before turning on her heel and marching up the stairs. Dorian met her at the top.  
  
"I'd love to see you in action against the nobles." He said mildly. Aoife glared at him.  
  
"Josephine doesn't leave me alone with any of them long enough. She knows that I'm liable to start stabbing people." She admitted gruffly. Dorian's laugh was the same bright golden laugh that always made her feel lighter.  
  
"Come along, my wild, warrior Dalish woman. I've found something about Corypheus I think might interest you." He said, dragging her to his little corner of the library and settling her into his chair.  
  
When Aoife slipped downstairs a few hours later, she found Solas sitting at his desk, reading over a thick book. The place she'd hit him had darkened into a deep purple bruise in the intervening time, and a thin trickle of guilt slipped through her.  
  
"Why didn't you heal it?" She asked, motioning to his cheek. Solas glanced up at her from the texts he'd been reading.  
  
"I think I'll let this one heal naturally. It will be a reminder. That perhaps I do not know as much as I think I do." He said softly. Aoife bit at her lip.  
  
" _ Ir abelas _ , Solas." Aoife said softly. He sighed and shook his head.  
  
"No. You were right to defend your honor, and that of your clan." He stood from his chair and walked to stand in front of her. "I was wrong to judge all Dalish by the few that I had met. And you were right on another count. The knowledge that I have tried to share would be difficult for the traditional Dalish to believe, but I have not gone out of my way to share it in a way that would benefit the people learning from it." He gave her a small smile. "I will try to be better." Aoife nodded.  
  
"Me too. It's not like my clan wouldn't leap at the chance to disown me, but they're all I have left. And I get to decide what that means for me." She said. "Forgiven?" She asked, motioning to the bruise on his cheek. Solas nodded.  
  
"Forgotten." He answered. He cleared his throat. "And you? Am I forgiven?" He asked. Aoife shrugged.  
  
"Sure. So long as we're clear that I'm not sorry I punched you, only that I had to. Otherwise, it's water under the bridge, and all that." She said easily. Solas cleared his throat.  
  
"Thank you. Then, I'll return to my research." He said, sitting back down and refocusing on the book in front of him. Aoife nodded and stepped toward the door to the main hall.  
  
"Sure. See you later, Solas." She waved over her shoulder as she walked into the main hall. Varric caught her as she passed by his table.  
  
"You punching people willy nilly now, Twist?" He asked quietly. Aoife narrowed her eyes at him.  
  
"Maybe. If it works." She threatened. Varric laughed and shooed her away.  
  
"Take the chance to rest, then. The advisors are all off doing their own things, and I haven't seen Cassandra since I ran away from her this afternoon. You can probably make it the rest of the way to your quarters without having to punch anyone." He said airily. Aoife stuck her tongue out at him and walked away.  
  
He was right, though.


	32. thirty-two - Drakonis 9:42 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Go see Stitches about that knife wound. Don't let it fester because you think scars are attractive."
> 
> "Hey, scars are attractive. That's just fact."

**Thirty-Two. Drakonis 9:42 Dragon**

 

"Happy Name Day to me." Aoife said softly, swallowing a mouthful of ale. She'd managed to avoid all of her meetings and all of the nobles roaming the halls of Skyhold, and had mostly made it through her morning unscathed. She had decided to allow herself one hour of morose drinking in the tavern before she went off to find Varric. As she set her mug down on the tabletop, she was interrupted from this plan.  
  
"Hey Boss, got a proposition for you." Iron Bull said, coming to sit beside her at the bar. There was something in his tone that pulled her up short. She studied his face before she took a long drink from her mug and sighed.  
  
"Gotta be honest with you, this doesn't sound like the kind of proposition I wanted to hear on my Name Day, The Iron Bull." Aoife hedged, and he laughed in a loud burst of sound.  
  
"Maybe next time, Boss." He said, low heat and promise coloring every word. "Why didn't you tell me sooner that your Name Day was today?" He asked. Aoife shrugged.  
  
"It's just a day." She said lamely. Iron Bull nodded slowly.  
  
"Maybe for some people." He agreed. Aoife sighed again.  
  
"Alright, fine. Maybe I didn't want anyone to know that I'm forty." She said, rolling her eyes. Iron Bull narrowed his eye at her.  
  
"You're older than me?" He asked, looking her up and down. Aoife glanced at him.  
  
"I dunno, am I?" She asked. He nodded slowly. A large grin spread across her face. "Well, that's as good a Name Day present as any, I guess." She teased. She drained her mug and grinned up at him. "Alright then, what is it?" She asked.  
  
Iron Bull shook his head and stood from his stool. "Not here. Follow me."  
  
He lead her out of the tavern under the watchful eye of Krem, and directed her to a quiet corner around the back of the building. Aoife crossed her arms.  
  
"This isn't going a very long way toward convincing me you're not propositioning me for something altogether different." Aoife teased, leaning back against the wall of the tavern. The midday sun had warmed the stones considerably, and it felt good against her back. Her shoulder still had a tendency to twinge painfully with overuse, and spending long hours bending over letters wasn't doing anything at all for her posture. Iron Bull grinned down at her, all heat and smugness and want, before his face grew serious. Aoife shifted against the building to stand a little straighter.  
  
"There's a shipment of red lyrium being transported to Minrathous. They'll be passing through the Storm Coast. A Qunari dreadnought is headed there to take out the shipment, and my contacts in the Qun have reached out requesting an alliance. We help them take out this shipment, stop it from reaching Tevinter and doing more harm than anyone could imagine, and then after, they help us." Iron Bull kept his voice even as he spoke. Aoife was immediately on edge.  
  
"An alliance? With the Qun?" She clarified. Iron Bull nodded. "And what do we stand to gain from this?" She hedged. Iron Bull's answering grin was tight.  
  
"I think it's more about what you stand to lose if you don't. But, more reports from Ben Hassrath agents stationed around Thedas. There are more of us than anyone realizes. Movements of the Venatori, along with naval support if needed. Plus, you'd be preventing a full on invasion." Iron Bull shrugged in a way that was supposed to suggest disinterest, but Aoife saw the way his shoulders were bunched tight with anticipation.  
  
Aoife studied him for a long moment, thinking. She'd never anticipated having even a passing acquaintance with the Qun outside of hiring Iron Bull, nevermind a full on alliance. She wondered what history might have to say about  _ that _ move. She bit her lip as she thought.  
  
"There's more than enough on my plate without having to worry about an impending invasion. And I suppose that having more eyes on the Venatori would be helpful, even if those eyes belong to the Qun." Aoife began. "But you run every little detail about this with Leliana before we go. And when we're there, you respect that I am the leader of this Inquisition. The moment I think this is going to turn into a raw deal on our end, I'm pulling us out, no questions asked or answered. If it comes to a choice between the Inquisition and the Qun, I'll understand that it's one you have to make yourself, but I will not stand for putting our people in any unnecessary danger. The Inquisition was formed to stop Corypheus, and all others like him. I won't make us pawn to another totalitarian regime." Aoife's voice was hard as she spoke, but the growing light in Iron Bull's eye told her it was the right answer.  
  
"Of course, Boss. You're the one in charge. We'll meet with our contact in a week's time. I'll send all the information up to Red." He reached forward and tugged a loose lock of her hair with a tight grin on his face. "This should be fun."  
  
"Sure," Aoife said wryly, waving him off as she headed to find Varric, "that's a word for it."  
  
By the time they met with Iron Bull's contact with the Qun, Aoife had begun to rethink her decision. Sera would have gone with her, but she had Jenny business, and Aoife always tried to allow her to continue working on something that meant so much to her. Solas had been outright furious with her choice to meet with the Qun, and Dorian was only slightly less aggravated with her. Cassandra had been working with Cullen on training the latest batch of recruits while also trying to track down the Seekers. So in the end, she'd dragged Varric and Vivienne along to the Storm Coast with her, if only for some semblance of peace.  
  
Iron Bull's contact turned out to be someone he knew, and he quickly outlined the goal of their mission.  
  
"There are two positions that must be held. Here," Gatt -  _ "It's what Hissrad called me. Short for  _ gaatlok _ , the Qunari word for that black powder of theirs." He had said, sharp teeth and sharp eyes. "I had something of a temper." _ \- stabbed at a waterproof map with a sharp finger, "and here. Send your team to hold one, and we'll take the other. Then it's just a matter of keeping the Venatori off the dreadnought. Nice and simple." Gatt said. Iron Bull grimaced a little as he studied the map.  
  
"Sure, simple. I  _ hate _ dreadnought runs. Chargers, you're headed to this point here. You keep your eyes peeled, and hold your ground. Horns up!" Iron Bull's rally cry was cheered by his team, and then both groups were off.  
  
"You gave them the easier job." Gatt said, his voice suspiciously light as they made their way to the checkpoint. Iron Bull shrugged, but he didn't meet Gatt's eyes.  
  
"Nah, just felt like keeping all the fun for me." Iron Bull said. Aoife had been watching him like a hawk since they'd left Skyhold, so she noticed the way he gritted his teeth after he finished speaking.  
  
They fought their way to the checkpoint, taking out the Venatori they encountered on the way with relative ease. The signal fire was lit, the Tevinter ship was sunk, and things seemed to be going as well as they ever did. And then they saw the reinforcements.  
  
"The Iron Bull, they're going to be overwhelmed." Aoife said, her voice tight as she stared across the beach at the Chargers. Krem seemed to be rallying them back into position.  
  
"Your men have to hold that position. We have to protect the dreadnought!" Gatt yelled. Iron Bull seemed lost.  
  
"But . . . they'll die." He said. Gatt scoffed.  
  
"And if they don't hold that position, we'll lose the dreadnought!" Gatt answered. Iron Bull's features hardened.  
  
"They're my men." He growled. His eye was focused on the Chargers, and Gatt had started yelling again, but the look on Iron Bull's face was soft and somehow helpless. Aoife stepped forward and touched Iron Bull's arm.  
  
"You'll call the retreat." She said, soft and firm. "You'll protect our men." He didn't even question it. The horn called the Chargers back to safety with more than enough time to escape the advancing Venatori. Gatt was furious.  
  
"You've ruined every hope of an alliance with the Qun. You'll no longer receive reports from the Ben Hassrath. You, nor your Tal-Vashoth ally. I fought for this, for you, Hissrad. I told them there was no way you could ever betray us." Gatt spat at them. Aoife watched as Iron Bull's features shuttered angrily. Aoife stepped between the two of them, and her eyes were bright and furious.  
  
"His name is The Iron Bull." Aoife growled. Gatt took a small step back and looked between the two of them. He sneered at Aoife.  
  
"Yeah. I guess it is." He said, his voice disgusted. He shook his head and walked away. Aoife watched him disappear into the thick trees of the Storm Coast before she turned back to Iron Bull. He was watching the dreadnought as a group of Venatori mages made their way onto the beach.  
  
"The Iron Bull, when the dreadnought sinks, we can -" Aoife began. Iron Bull shook his head slowly.  
  
"Qunari dreadnoughts don't sink." He said. His voice was barely loud enough to be heard over the rain, and nearly as soon as he'd finished speaking, an explosion ripped the dreadnought apart.  
  
"Well, shit." Varric muttered at Aoife's side. Aoife met his curious gaze. "You're not worried about this, Twist?" He asked. Aoife turned and headed back toward their base camp. They'd meet up with the Chargers and take stock of their injuries and rest a bit before they all headed back to Skyhold. She shrugged before answering him.  
  
"I've fought off would-be invasions before. You were there for some of it. I'll face another and live to tell the tale of the scars they leave behind." She sighed. Varric laughed loudly, the sound carrying despite the heavy rain. "Maybe I'll even let you write about me when it's all over." She teased. Varric laughed again.  
  
"Let me? Let me?! You should be so lucky, Twist." Varric called, retreating to the relative warmth and dryness of the tents. Aoife started to follow him, but stopped halfway there. Vivienne had already ducked into her own tent - the Madame did  _ not _ share - but the Chargers had just entered the camp from the other side. She turned to glance at them. Iron Bull had gone ahead of them to meet up with the Chargers, and all of them were huddled around him and speaking in quick, excited tones. As Iron Bull stood head and shoulders above all of them, Aoife was able to clearly see the look on his face. There was some sadness there, but it was quickly overwhelmed by a deep relief. He glanced up and met her searching gaze and held it for a long moment before slowly inclining his head in thanks. Aoife grinned brightly and blew him a kiss before retreating into the tent after Varric. She did her best to ignore his not-so-subtle teasing as she dried off.  
  
Two days after they returned to Skyhold, damp but no less worse for the wear, she met Iron Bull on the battlements near the stables.  
  
"You wanted to see me, The Iron Bull?" She asked, grinning at him. He nodded his head.  
  
"Yeah, thanks Boss. I just needed you for something." He said. She started to ask him what, when two guards that had been slowly approaching attacked. It was over before she'd realized what was happening.  
  
"What the fuck, The Iron Bull?" She asked, glancing over the edge of the battlements. The ground was too far away for her to see. She wondered if the assassin had died before Iron Bull tossed him over the edge, or if he'd lived to be splattered on the rocks below.  
  
"This was nothing. Just a formality. Letting me know I'm officially Tal-Vashoth." Iron Bull growled distractedly, wiping at the knife-wound on his chest. "Tal-Va-fucking-shoth." Aoife narrowed her eyes.  
  
"If the Ben Hassrath can't see how amazing you are, that's their fucking loss." She answered. Iron Bull opened his mouth to say something, and Aoife stopped him with a finger against his chest. "No. I don't want to hear it. You're a good fucking man, and that's all there is to it. Don't argue with me, The Iron Bull." He studied the fierce look on her face for a long moment, and whatever he saw there was enough to make his shoulders ease out of the tight squeeze they'd been in.  
  
"Yeah. Okay, Boss." Iron Bull said, nodding. There was a long moment of silence between them where they just stared at each other before a slow, wicked grin crossed his face. "A good  _ fucking _ man, huh? Who you been talking to? The kitchen maids?" He teased. Aoife considered her words and a light flush crossed her face.  
  
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." She answered airily, stepping around him to head back down the stairs. "Go see Stitches about that knife wound. Don't let it fester because you think scars are attractive." She warned.  
  
"Hey, scars  _ are _ attractive. That's just fact." Iron Bull argued as she stepped past him. She made it a step or two away when he caught her with a large hand. He tugged her close to him and hugged her from behind. Iron Bull buried his nose in her hair and held her for a long moment. Aoife rested her hands on his arms and leaned back against his strong chest.  
  
"Thanks, Boss." He said, and his voice was soft and private. "Thanks."


	33. thirty-three - Drakonis 9:42 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Yeah. Nobody told me there'd be so much fucking walking. I might have just stayed in Antiva and kept killing people for money."
> 
> "That's the spirit, pet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut ahead! If that squicks you, you can skip from 
> 
> "What are you waiting for?"
> 
> and CONTROL+F to
> 
> She slept peacefully that night.

**Thirty-Three. Drakonis 9:42 Dragon**

 

Aoife found the hidden - and surprisingly well-appointed - wine cellar one week after her return from the Storm Coast. Things were finally settling into place. They were busily working at gathering and training their assorted troops, and each of the members of her Inner Circle had been quickly put to work.   
  
Varric and Vivienne were taking turns fielding the various diplomats that Josephine invited to visit, while also turning their efforts to their own research concerns. Solas had helped assemble a small group of people interested in learning more about the Fade, while also busily researching the strange magical shards they kept finding scattered haphazardly across Thedas. Cassandra and Iron Bull were each taking turns putting troops through brutal drills, while Iron Bull still commanded the Chargers and Cassandra was searching for news about the lost Seekers. Dorian was hip-deep in research about Corypheus and his ties in Tevinter, using Alexius' knowledge of the Venatori to help predict their movements.  
  
Shortly after she stumbled into the wine cellar - and back out again, bottle of wine in tow - Aoife discovered the hidden library.  
  
The title of Inquisitor still hung heavily around her neck, much like a noose, and the last four months had been a trying mix of running between every corner of Thedas and sending troops and supplies and letters to every last inch of the continent. But it was enough of a distraction from the devastating reports they were getting. Corypheus and his red Templars were causing problems everywhere, and when Aoife had finally made her way back to Crestwood - and she'd tried  _ so _ hard not to think of Siobhan and her cabin that still stood on a hill but they'd stopped to rest just down the valley from it and she'd spent the better part of an hour crying so hard she threw up - they learned that the Wardens were disappearing because they thought they were all dying.  
  
And on top of all of that, she had to manage everyone's expectations while also learning all of her new duties on the run, combined with their attempts to scatter troops and supplies and letters to every inch of Thedas.   
  
She was avoiding yet another war council meeting, which is what lead  her to the wine cellar, and then the hidden library.  
  
There was at least an Age's worth of dust and cobwebs on the spines of the books, and she trailed her fingers across them delicately.  
  
She'd been lucky enough to know how to read a little when she'd left her clan, honestly, and the time she'd spent with Siobhan and then Valen had given her an appreciation for it. Some of the books were in a language she'd never seen before, and she spent a good hour tracing their curving letters and wondering what it was they said.  
  
When she stumbled upon a shelf of books about her people, she'd stopped only out of curiosity. Scholars rarely had anything good to say about elves, but as she was wasting time already, she figured it couldn't hurt to take a look.  
  
It was Dorian who found her, three hours later, seated on the floor behind the desk with four books in her lap and tears in her eyes.  
  
"Now what's this you've found here? You had another library and you didn't tell me?" Dorian asked, squatting down to meet her eyes.  
  
"Dorian, how could there be so much about my own people that I don't know?" Aoife answered, waving at the books around her. "There's so much hidden here. One of these even claims to date all the way back to Halamshiral.  _ Halamshiral _ , Dorian. Do you understand what this book, this one single book, could do for my people? Even if it's half fiction, there's  _ so _ much that's here. So much that's just been sitting in this dusty room just fucking rotting away." She watched as Dorian's mouth twitched into a small frown.  
  
"There's always something else to learn, pet." He told her gently, taking one of the books from her lap and flipping through it. "What's really bothering you?" He asked. He reached out to push her hair from her face. In a strange turn, he felt very tenderly for her. She was a friend he'd never imagined making, and it put him out of sorts in all kinds of ways. All the rest of his friends hadn't really been his friends, except for Felix. Aoife sniffled noisily and wiped her nose on her sleeve, ignoring his slight grimace of disgust.  
  
"I don't know, really. I don't think I can be the Inquisitor, Dorian, but I think it's probably too late to admit that now. I'm Dalish, and I'm barely that. And I'm afraid, and I'm tired, and I never asked for any of this to happen." She said, and her voice was terribly small and thin. Dorian sighed.  
  
"Yes, well. I don't imagine that anyone actually destined for greatness really ever asked for it. There's an awful lot of trudging about in the mud involved with greatness, you know." She laughed a little at that and he counted it as a win.  
  
"Yeah. Nobody told me there'd be so much fucking  _ walking _ . I might have just stayed in Antiva and kept killing people for money." She sniffled. Dorian laughed.  
  
"That's the spirit, pet." He said, pulling the books from her lap and setting them gently on the desk behind him. "Come on then, let's get some food in you. Cassandra's been prowling the grounds looking for you for ages. I'd rather you be fed before I send you off to the wolves." Dorian tucked her hair out of her face and gave her his handkerchief to wipe her eyes.  
  
Her smile was still a little watery around the edges, but she laughed again and allowed him to drag her to the kitchens.  
  
A oife didn't really think she could love anyone again after Talagan. But then there had been Siobhan, and Valen, and she'd realized that maybe her heart wasn't as small or as sore as she'd thought it was. She let Dorian fuss over her while they both pretended he wasn't, and she thought that maybe it could be the start of something new.  
  
When she finally made it back to her quarters that night, after breaking up a massive fight between Cassandra and Varric and setting up directions for the next few days with her war council, she found Iron Bull waiting for her in her rooms. She still ached in every single part of her from their recent adventures, and climbing the numerous stairs to her tower in the sky had been torture. When she met his eye at the top of the stair, however, it was like all the ache and fatigue was gone from her limbs in a moment.  
  
"Alright, so listen. I've gotten the hints, Boss." He told her, a devilish grin across his face. "I know you want to ride The Bull." His voice was a teasing lilt that made her heart start tripping up in her chest. She dropped the report she'd been reading on the couch and crossed her arms.  
  
"Oh. Is that so?" She asked, arching an eyebrow. Iron Bull laughed.  
  
"I can't say that I blame you. But what I want to know is, do you know what you're asking for?" He stood from the bed where he'd been sitting and started walking toward her slowly. In the interest of teasing, Aoife took slow steps backwards until he had her up against the wall.  
  
"Are you sure that you know what I want?" She asked. Iron Bull took both of her wrists and pinned them above her head with one of his large hands. She hissed in a breath as it pressed her back tight to the wall and she felt little flashes of pain from the bruises that were still healing all over her. Iron Bull leaned in close to her sensitive ear. She felt his stubble rasp against the soft skin of her jaw.  
  
"Last chance to say no." He teased. She knew if she said no at any point, he'd stop. But that wasn't part of the game she was playing.  
  
"What are you waiting for?" Aoife asked, breathless. That slow grin crawled across his face and he leaned in again.  
  
When he finally kissed her, it was scorching. It was like he was trying to eat her from the mouth down, and she felt it all the way down to her  _ toes. _ He didn't linger or tiptoe around. He swept his tongue across her bottom lip before trapping it in his teeth. A sharp nip to make her open, and then his tongue swept inside her mouth, claiming her.  
  
When he slipped her leathers off of her, and had her bare before him, she felt something inside of her unwind. He sat down on the end of the bed, bringing his head closer to her height as she stood before him. His fingers traced the pale  _ vallaslin _ that arched across her body.  
  
"You know, most Dalish I've known only have the ones on their faces." He said, not quite asking a question. Aoife shivered as a rough palm swept across the sensitive skin on her hip. She met his eye with a grin.  
  
"I'm not most Dalish you've known." She leaned forward to nip at his ear, moaning softly when quick fingers pinched her left nipple. His voice was a low grumble in his chest.  
  
"That's for fucking certain."  
  
When he finally laid her down on the bed beneath him, he took her  _ apart _ . First with his hands. He tickled and twisted and teased every inch of her, from the soft hollow beneath her jawbones to the dips between her toes. He traced every scar, no matter how ticklish, and kept her arms pinned firmly above her head. She writhed beneath him when he traced his fingers through the soft thatch of pale hair between her legs.  
  
"You're a damn tease." Aoife hissed, arching further as a knuckle drew along the seam of her cleft. When thick fingers slipped between the folds of her labia and drew soft circles in the wetness he found there, she sighed out a moan.  
  
"Now, now Boss. It's only teasing if I don't intend to follow through." Iron Bull answered.  
  
"My name is Aoife." She groaned out, trying to shift her hips for more friction. Iron Bull laughed in a low tone that sent goosebumps across her skin. She opened her mouth to ask what he found funny but cut herself off with a low moan as his lips closed over the sensitive peak of her right nipple.  
  
He continued in that fashion - teasing and tasting - until she was a shivering, desperate mess. She could feel him hard against her thigh, but he didn't hurry his way into her. He took his time making her fall apart. It was only after she'd come on his fingers and against his mouth that he turned to settle her on top of him. Aoife let out a low groan as she slipped his hardness inside of her. Iron Bull hissed out a low moan.  
  
"Fuuuuck." He growled, his hands tight on Aoife's hips. She sank down slowly, feeling him stretch her as she took him in. She leaned forward and braced her hands on his shoulders.  
  
"Oh, I intend to." She breathed, circling her hips against him. Iron Bull groaned again, helping her settle all the way on top of him. Aoife hadn't ever felt so full in her life. He let her be for a long moment before she shifted, grinding against him, and his hands tightened on her hips again.  
  
"You'll be sore tomorrow." Iron Bull teased, leaning forward to suck her left nipple in his mouth. Aoife moaned and began circling her hips against him in short, quick motions. She felt her release rising quicker than the other two had, and her movements were beginning to grow wild and unsteady.  
  
"I should hope so." She managed to gasp out. Iron Bull took the motion from her then, moving her at a faster pace. She felt him twitching inside of her, and she pressed closer to him, chasing the edge of her orgasm. When she found her third release on top of him, she felt him shiver and fall apart beneath her. He slipped out of her slowly, enjoying the way she twitched and moaned. He laid her gently back on the bed and tidied her up before slipping away to let her sleep.  
  
She slept peacefully that night, too tired to dream about anything at all, and woke up sore in the best ways in the morning.  
  
She went to find him a few days later in the tavern.  
  
"Pleasure as always, Boss." He called when he caught sight of her moving his way. Aoife gave him a tight grin.  
  
"Can we talk, The Iron Bull? In private?" She asked. She jerked her head toward her tower and Iron Bull followed her up in silence. When they reached the top of the stairs Aoife turned to face him.  
  
"What's going on Boss?" Iron Bull asked. His voice was soft in the quiet room. Aoife took a deep breath.  
  
"We need to talk about what happened between us." She started. " _ I _ need to talk about it."  
  
"Oh. That. Sure. What's on your mind?" Iron Bull asked her.   
  
"What is this, exactly? What are we doing?" She asked quickly, trying not to start pacing. Iron Bull took a seat on the couch and looked up at her.  
  
"That's really up to you, Boss. If you want it light and casual, that's fine with me." He said, shrugging. Aoife frowned.  
  
"You said that this is what I needed. What did you mean by that?" She asked. He gave her a small smile.  
  
"You're the Inquisitor, Aoife. You didn't ask for the job, but you've taken on the responsibility. You've got thousands of lives riding on your decisions. You bear that weight all day every day. You need a place where you can be safe, knowing someone else is in charge for a bit." He told her gently. Aoife nodded slowly.  
  
"You're not wrong." She admitted. "It's a lot to deal with, being Inquisitor. Being with you was . . . nice." Iron Bull smiled again.  
  
"Good. Figured you'd have kicked me out if you disagreed." He said. Aoife nodded slowly. She bit her lip and thought about her next words. He tilted his head while he studied her. "Ask me, Boss. Whatever it is you're worrying about, just ask me."  
  
"Those times you talked about  _ passing time _ with the serving girls? Is this what you do to them?" She asked, feeling an ugly jealousy curling in her gut. She didn't really have a right to be jealous about what, or  _ who _ , he'd done before then. Iron Bull laughed a little.  
  
"The serving girls spend most of their day following orders and feeling unimportant. They need someone who makes them feel special. Lets 'em cut loose with no repercussions. I let them bounce on top and tell them their tits look nice. Everybody wins." He said mildly. He caught sight of the look on Aoife's face and shook his head. "I mean, I used to. Long as we're doing this, you've got my complete attention." He promised. Aoife nodded slowly, annoyed he'd realized she was jealous.  
  
"So . . . what is  _ this _ ?" She asked again, pointing between the two of them. "What are we doing?" Iron Bull reached out and tugged her close to him. He took his hands between hers.  
  
"I told you before. It's up to you. Whatever you want out of this is fine with me." He said, holding her hands between his. Aoife bit her lip again.  
  
"How do Qunari show that they're serious about a relationship?" She asked softly. Iron Bull shook his head.  
  
"They don't. We don't have sex for love." He said roughly. Aoife frowned a little, but he kept talking. "But for someone we really care about, there is this old tradition. You find a dragon's tooth, break it in half, and you each wear a piece. Then, no matter how far apart life takes you, you're always together." He met her gaze evenly.  
  
"Sounds serious." She answered, finally. Iron Bull nodded, studying her.  
  
"It is." He said softly. He tugged her a little closer. "What's on your mind now, Boss?" He asked her. Aoife grinned slowly.  
  
"You are. I'd like you on the rest of me, too." She said in a low voice. Iron Bull laughed.  
  
"I thought I read you right." He teased, before he tugged her into his lap.  
  
They spent the better part of the afternoon wrapped around each other.  
  
It was only later, when Varric pointed out the large love bite on her neck, that she realized why Cullen hadn't been able to meet her eyes at all during their meeting. She imagined she could hear Iron Bull laughing all the way downstairs.


	34. thirty-four - Cloudreach 9:42 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Thank you, Aoife. I could not have done this on my own."
> 
> "Sure you could have, if you had to. But you will never have to."

**Thirty-Four. Cloudreach 9:42 Dragon**

 

Aoife found Cassandra in the war room, hunched over the large map and sighing. She noticed Aoife's entrance and stood to look at her.  
  
"I can keep staring at this, but I won't get any closer." She said wryly. Aoife frowned a little.  
  
"Can I help?" Aoife asked, crossing the space between. Cassandra nodded.  
  
"Yes. Possibly. You remember I was looking for the Seekers?" Cassandra asked. Aoife hummed an affirmative. "I suppose I'll never find them on my own. We saw so many red Templars at the assault on Haven. Perhaps all that was left of the order. What we didn't see was Lord Seeker Lucius. Indeed, I've seen no hint of  _ any _ Seekers amongst the red Templars, or anywhere. I have a growing suspicion that Corypheus has imprisoned them." Cassandra finished. Aoife frowned deeper.  
  
"Why imprisoned? He could just as easily have killed them." She pointed out, coming around the table to look at the map with Cassandra. Cassandra shook her head.  
  
"Not  _ easily. _ But, yes. They may be dead. But the Seekers  _ began _ this war against the mages, they cannot have simply vanished. There  _ must _ be a trail we can follow. So far I have only discovered hints." Cassandra insisted. Aoife sighed lightly.  
  
"There's a chance that they could have ended up just like the red Templars, Cass." She pointed out. Cassandra shook her head again.  
  
"Seekers do not use lyrium. I assume Corypheus gained control of the Templars by corrupting the lyrium they were  _ already _ taking. To do the same to a Seeker, you'd have to force the lyrium upon him. That may be what happened, but it couldn't have begun that way. We're missing a piece of the puzzle, Inquisitor. And I need to find it." Cassandra said. Aoife studied her.  
  
"Finding them obviously means a lot to you." She pointed out. Cassandra gave her a slight smile.  
  
"I left the order, but I can never abandon them. I cannot even claim that rescuing them would be beneficial. They wouldn't look kindly on the Inquisition. But even so, if there's a chance . . ." She lead Aoife around the table, both of them headed to the doors, "if we have the resources to follow up on this lead Inquisitor, I would appreciate it." Aoife nodded her head.  
  
"Of course, Cassandra. Where do you think they are?" Aoife asked, following her out of the war room.  
  
"I believe they can be found at Caer Oswin. But I do not know what else we will find there. We should expect the worst." Cassandra told her. Aoife placed a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"I'll make the arrangements. We can leave in the morning." She promised. Cassandra exhaled on a deep sigh.  
  
"Thank you, Aoife." She said lowly. "I shall make myself ready."  
  
The trip was relatively uneventful. Vivienne and Solas had agreed to come along, so the four of them left the following morning. As they made their way up the slope toward the castle, Cassandra broke the silence.  
  
"It is odd that the trail should lead us here, I will admit. Bann Loren is a pious, unassuming man. What has he become involved in?" Cassandra said softly. Aoife shrugged.  
  
"He might simply be a victim as well." She pointed out. Cassandra's face was grim.  
  
"Let's see what lies within." She said. Vivienne and Solas made soft sounds of agreement as well.  
  
Inside the castle they found a group of soldiers that went down easily enough. Aoife came out of the fight with a growing bruise on her left cheek, but was otherwise uninjured. When the last one lay dead on the floor, Cassandra let out a slight disgusted noise.  
  
"Promisers. I should have known." She grumbled, wiping the blood off her sword. Aoife turned to her.  
  
"Promisers?" She asked.  
  
"The Order of Fiery Promise is a cult with . . . strange beliefs about the Seekers. They've hounded us for centuries." Cassandra said, frowning. Aoife wiped her knives and slipped them back into their places before coming to stand beside her.  
  
"What kind of strange beliefs?" She asked. Cassandra sighed.  
  
"They believe that  _ they _ are Seekers - the only rightful ones. They say we robbed their powers long ago, preventing them from ending the world." She told her. Aoife sighed.  
  
"Ending the world, huh?" She asked mildly. Cassandra shrugged.  
  
"The only way to eradicate evil, in their eyes.  _ The world will be reborn a paradise. _ " She shook her head. "It's all nonsense." Solas made a noise behind them.  
  
"What is it with humans and ending the world?" He asked softly. Aoife shrugged.  
  
"Too much of a good thing?" She suggested. He made a face and shrugged.  
  
"Why haven't the Seekers dealt with this before now?" He asked Cassandra. Cassandra shook her head.  
  
"We have. Many times. They simply reappear after a time, like weeds. Nobody knows how." She said, agitated. Aoife heaved out another sigh.  
  
"Oh good. I was beginning to think that one group of cultist fanatics was just not quite enough of a problem. I'm so glad we can add another one to the list." She said wryly. Vivienne scoffed lightly.  
  
"Well, you know what they say, darling." Vivienne began mildly, sweeping past all of them and into the next room. "Where there's one, there's always another."  
  
"This explains why the Seekers might be here, but not the connection to Corypheus." Cassandra said. Aoife shrugged her shoulders, following after Vivienne.  
  
"Oh, I don't know. Seems like all the crazy happening in the world right now belongs to him. I don't see why they wouldn't be connected to him, either." She said breezily. Cassandra frowned deeply.  
  
"Let us hope not." She answered.  
  
They made their way through a few hallways and rooms before stepping out into a bright courtyard. There were a few soldiers stationed throughout the courtyard, and they took them out as quickly as they had the others. Cassandra bent down to pick up a slip of parchment that had fallen from one of the Promiser's pockets.  
  
"As the Seekers of Truth have proven resistant to the effects of red lyrium, the Elder One has seen fit to place them in your care. Reclaim your destiny, and know that the Elder One expects your devotion as repayment. Signed by Lord Samson. Commander of the red Templars." Cassandra read. Aoife came to stand beside her. Cassandra whirled around to meet Aoife's gaze. "Does Corypheus not realize the Promisers want the world to end? What use are they to him?" She asked, voice loud and angry.  
  
"I doubt he intends to use them very long." Solas observed. Vivienne nodded in agreement.  
  
"So Corypheus sold the Seekers to these cultists?" Aoife asked, reaching for the note. Cassandra handed it over.  
  
"And they leapt at the chance, of course." Cassandra scoffed, shaking her head. "But this doesn't explain how he captured the Seekers in the first place, or what's been done with them. We must keep looking." Cassandra insisted. Aoife nodded her head.  
  
"The letter said that Seekers were resistant to red Lyrium." Aoife pointed out.  
  
"Our abilities grant us many gifts, but a resistance to red Lyrium's corruption? That seems strange. Although it would explain why none have numbered among the red Templars we have faced . . ." Cassandra agreed. Vivienne came to glance over the note.  
  
"The Seekers should be useless to Corypheus then. He doesn't seem the type to collect people he can't use." Vivienne pointed out. Cassandra nodded.  
  
"He would have no leash to hold us." She agreed. Her brow furrowed.  
  
"You sound worried." Aoife said. Cassandra nodded again, still frowning.  
  
"I am. The Seekers are my family." She agreed. They turned toward a high set of stairs near the far end of the courtyard. "Let us continue. We may yet find the answers we seek."   
  
Aoife led the way up the stairs, unsurprised to find more Promisers inside. They fought through them and continued upward. Solas stepped into pace with Aoife.  
  
"Perhaps I am mistaken, but this castle seems unusually empty." He pointed out. Aoife gave him a wry grin.  
  
"Oh you noticed that, did you?" She asked softly. "If the Promisers took it over, it makes sense that they wouldn't keep anyone unnecessary around. Whenever things change, the first people to die are usually the little ones." Aoife said. Solas grimaced a little.  
  
"Once we've found out what's going on, I'd like to look for them." He told her. Aoife inclined her head.  
  
"Of course we will." She agreed. They walked through another set of doors into a ruined hallway that fed up to a large set of stairs. There was a body laying near the staircase. Cassandra rushed forward.  
  
"Daniel? Daniel! Can you hear me?" She called, racing toward the man. He slowly turned his head to look up at her.  
  
"Cassandra?" He asked, squinting. "It is you! You're alive!" He gasped out.  
  
"And so are you. I am so glad I found you." She told him. Daniel shook his head.  
  
"No, they . . . put a demon inside me. It's tearing me up." He told her, struggling to speak. Cassandra's face went pale.  
  
"What? You can't be possessed - it's not possible!" She insisted, shaking her head. Daniel shook his head.  
  
"I'm not possessed. They . . . fed me things. I can feel it growing." He explained. Aoife knelt down beside the two of them.  
  
"When Dorian and I were trapped in Redcliffe castle, in that horrible future, you told us that the Venatori had been experimenting on you with red Lyrium and studying its effects. Fiona told us that it was mined from corpses." Aoife said lowly. She turned her gaze back to Daniel. "The Promisers will pay for what they've done." She growled. Daniel shook his head again.  
  
"No. The Lord Seeker." He said. Cassandra leaned forward.  
  
"Of course we'll find him, if he lives. We'll -" Cassandra began, but Daniel interrupted her with a sob.  
  
"Lucius betrayed us, Cassandra." He said, tears streaming down his cheeks. "He sent us here, one by one.  _ An important mission _ , he said. Lies. He was here with them all along. He's still working with them." He gritted out, anger coloring his words. Cassandra was stunned silent. Aoife shook her head.  
  
"But we met Lord Seeker Lucius in Val Royeaux. He couldn't have been here." She argued. Daniel shook his head.  
  
"That wasn't him. It was a demon, masquerading." He told her. His breaths were growing pained.  
  
"What? How could that be?" Cassandra asked. Her face was still pale.  
  
"The Lord Seeker allowed it. He let the demon take command, while he . . . " He trailed off, voice weakening. Cassandra's face cleared.  
  
"He came here." She finished. Aoife glanced to Cassandra.  
  
"Would he really work with these cultists?" She asked her. Cassandra's face hardened for a second.  
  
"I intend to find out." She promised. Aoife stood, and Daniel reached out for both of them.

"Wait! Don't leave me like this, please . . ." He begged. Aoife met Cassandra's eyes and nodded before stepping away with Vivienne and Solas. Cassandra leaned close to the man.  
  
"You should have come with me. You didn't believe in the war any more than I did." She said sadly. Daniel coughed out a small laugh.  
  
"You know me. I wanted that promotion." His words were cut off by a rough cough. Cassandra leaned forward to place a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Go to the Maker's side, Daniel. You will be welcome." She said softly. He nodded and closed his eyes.  
  
"Thank you, my friend." He said. And then Cassandra stabbed through his heart. She watched him for a long moment before turning back to Aoife.  
  
"He was my apprentice. I have never known a finer young man." She said roughly. She seemed to shake herself and her eyes turned angry. "Now, we find Lord Seeker Lucius." She growled.  
  
The fight to the top of the castle was just drawn out enough that Aoife grew irritated.  
  
"How many of these assholes do we have to kill?" She wondered, stabbing yet another person in the throat. An arch of lightning crossed the courtyard and struck another soldier dead in his armor.  
  
"I believe the way should be clear, now. We are nearly at the top." Cassandra said, breathing hard. Aoife rolled her shoulders loose and walked up the final set of stairs.  
  
They found the Lord Seeker with a few soldiers at the top. Cassandra stomped toward him.  
  
"Lord Seeker Lucius." She growled. The Lord Seeker stepped toward them.  
  
"Cassandra, with a woman I can only assume is the new Inquisitor." He greeted, nodding at them. Aoife narrowed her eyes at him.  
  
"And  _ you're _ the man who betrayed his own order." She responded, pointing at him. The Lord Seeker gave her a tight smile.  
  
"I presume you know that we Seekers of Truth were once the original Inquisition?" He asked. Aoife's surprise must have shown on her face, because he grinned. "Oh, yes. We fought to restore order in a time of madness long ago, as you do now. And we became proud. We sought to remake the world - to make it better. But what did we create? The Chantry, the Circles of Magi. A war that will see no end." He told her. Aoife snarled at him.  
  
"And aiding Corypheus is supposed to help?" She asked. Lord Seeker Lucius shook his head.  
  
"Corypheus is a monster with limited ambition." He responded, waving a hand before him in dismissal. Cassandra snorted.  
  
"And your ambition is so much greater." She drawled. The Lord Seeker sighed.  
  
"We Seekers are abominations, Cassandra. We created a decaying world, and fought to preserve it even as it crumbled. We  _ had _ to be stopped." He insisted. "You don't believe me? I don't expect you to." He reached into a pocket and pulled out a heavy book. "See for yourself. The secrets of our order, passed to me after the former Lord Seeker was slain. The war with the mages had already begun, but it was not too late for me to do the right thing." Aoife scoffed.  
  
"And  _ this _ was the right thing?" She asked. Cassandra shook her head.  
  
"Lord Seeker, what you've done . . ." She began, her anger fading. The Lord Seeker nodded.  
  
"I know." He told her, almost gently. "What Corypheus did with the Templars does not matter. I have seen the future." He began. Aoife snorted.  
  
"Funny thing about that, so have I. It didn't look like this." She said, eyes still narrowed at him. He shook his head.  
  
"I have created a new order to replace the old. The world will end so that we can start anew - a pure beginning. Join us Cassandra, it is the Maker's will." Lord Seeker Lucius said, sounding triumphant. Cassandra snarled and drew her sword, advancing on him.  
  
"I will send you to Him, and you can ask Him yourself." She growled, and then the fighting began.  
  
When it was over, Lord Seeker Lucius was dead on the ground before them. Cassandra shook her head.  
  
"He was insane. He had to be. The influence of Corypheus, perhaps? Was he trying to disable the Seekers?" She asked, frowning. Aoife glanced around at the bodies on the ground.  
  
"All of these lives, wasted." She sighed. Cassandra shook her head.  
  
"He could not have destroyed all of us. I won't accept it." She picked up the book the Lord Seeker had shown her, marked with the flaming eye of the Seekers. She gave it a long look before tucking it into her pack. "Let us return to Skyhold. I wish to see what's in this . . . book of secrets." Cassandra said, subdued. Aoife nodded.  
  
"Of course." She said, and they left Caer Oswin behind them.  
  
The day after they returned to Skyhold, Varric flagged Aoife down as she was crossing the Great Hall.  
  
"You might want to go check on the Seeker, Twist." He said softly. Aoife frowned.  
  
"I was about to hunt her down." Aoife agreed. She gave Varric a strange look. "Are you concerned?" She asked him. Varric scoffed lightly.  
  
"Only for my life." He remarked blandly. Aoife watched him walk off with a slight grin before it faded. Cassandra had been withdrawn the entire trip back to Skyhold. Aoife couldn't blame her, either. The man she'd trusted, that all of the Seekers had trusted, had killed them all.  
  
She headed out of the Great Hall and headed down the stairs. Cassandra could usually be found training in a shady corner near the tavern, but Aoife could already see that she wasn't there. She caught the attention of a passing scout.  
  
"Have you seen Seeker Pentaghast?" She asked them. They nodded their head.  
  
"Yes, milady Inquisitor. I believe she's in the forge. In the upper room." They told her, helpfully pointing to the armory that she could see very clearly. Aoife smiled and thanked them regardless.  
  
She found Cassandra seated at a table in the upper loft, just like the scout had said, staring down at the book the Lord Seeker had had. Cassandra caught sight of her and sighed.  
  
"This tome has passed from Lord Seeker to Lord Seeker, since the time of the old Inquisition. And now it falls to me." She said softly, glancing between Aoife and the book. Aoife took a seat at the table across from her.  
  
"Are you alright? You look drained." Aoife asked. Cassandra gave her a wry grin.  
  
"Oh, on the contrary. It's a delight. I'm riveted." She drawled, voice dry. Aoife laughed softly.  
  
"She's got jokes now, I see." Aoife teased. Cassandra's smile lasted a moment longer before it slipped.  
  
"Do you know what the Rite of Tranquility is, Aoife?" Cassandra asked. Aoife inclined her head. "The last resort used on mages in the Circle, leaving them unable to cast, but depriving them of dreams and all emotion. It should only be used on those who cannot control their abilities, but that has not always been the case."  
  
"Does the book say it was used for other things?" Aoife asked, leaning her elbows on the table and propping her chin on her hands. Cassandra shook her head.  
  
"No. As a Seeker, I looked into  . . . abuses. Mages made Tranquil as punishment. What finally began the mage rebellion was a discovery that the Rite of Tranquility could be reversed." Aoife sucked in sharp breath.  
  
"Holy shit." She breathed. Cassandra nodded.  
  
"Indeed. The Lord Seeker at the time covered it up - harshly. There were deaths. It was dangerous knowledge. The shock of its discovery in addition to what happened in Kirkwall . . ." Cassandra's voice trailed off. "But, it appears we've  _ always _ known how to reverse the Rite. From the very beginning." She said. Aoife's brow furrowed.  
  
"So the rebellion could have been prevented." She mused softly. Cassandra shrugged.  
  
"Perhaps." She agreed. "But it was a long time coming. For many reasons." They were both silent for a moment, the only sound being the echoing of the hammer on the anvil below. After a moment, Cassandra seemed to shake herself. "We created the Rite of Tranquility." Aoife's eyes widened.  
  
" _ Holy shit _ ." Aoife said again. Cassandra took a deep, steadying breath.  
  
"I told you of my vigil back in Haven - the months that I spent emptying myself of all emotion? I was made Tranquil, and did not even know. Then the vigil summoned a spirit of Faith to touch my mind. That is what broke Tranquility - and gave me my abilities. The Seekers did not share that secret. Not with me, nor with the Chantry. Not even with . . ." Her voice trailed off. She stood from her chair and turned to face the window that looked out over the courtyard. Aoife sat back in her chair and stared up at Cassandra.  
  
"What the  _ fuck _ Cass?" Aoife breathed. Cassandra took another deep breath.  
  
"There's more. Lucius was not wrong about the Order. I thought to rebuild the Seekers once victory was ours. Now, I'm not certain that it deserves to be rebuilt." She stepped closer to the window and leaned against the frame. Aoife watched her for a long moment before leaning forward.  
  
"You said there was more in the book?" She prompted. Cassandra nodded.  
  
"At some point, power becomes its own master. We cast aside ideals in favor of expedience and tell ourselves it was all necessary. For the people." She glanced over her shoulder at Aoife. "Will that happen to us, Inquisitor? Will we repeat history?" She asked. Aoife shook her head sharply, almost before Cassandra even finished speaking.  
  
"No." She said roughly. "We're nothing like the Seekers." Cassandra gave her a slow nod.  
  
"I wonder how much we resemble what they used to be." She mused. Aoife's brow furrowed.  
  
"I don't think I've ever seen you so shaken, Cassandra." Aoife observed. Cassandra nodded and turned back to the window.  
  
"I do not think the Seekers have been doing the Maker's work. Not truly. Perhaps we believed it, once. The original Inquisition came to be during a terrible time. But now?" She turned to face Aoife again. "We harbored secrets and let them fester. We acted to survive, but not to serve. That is not the Maker's work." She insisted. Aoife studied Cassandra's back for a moment.  
  
"If you did rebuild them, how would you do it?" She asked. Cassandra thought for a moment before turning back to Aoife.  
  
"I can't be the only one remaining. We were always spread to the winds, and some may still be out there. I would find them, one by one. We would all read this book - no more secrets. And then together we would establish a new charter. The Maker's work, in truth." She said softly, face drawn and serious. Aoife gave her a small smile.  
  
"If anyone could rebuild the Seekers into something worthwhile, you can." Aoife insisted. Cassandra frowned for a moment.  
  
"But are they  _ worth _ rebuilding?" She asked. Aoife stood and joined her at the window. She knocked her shoulder into Cassandra's.  
  
"You could  _ make _ them worth it." She insisted again. Cassandra studied her face for a moment.  
  
"I . . . will think on your words." She promised. She watched Aoife for a long moment before she smiled. "Thank you, Aoife. I could not have done this on my own." Aoife shook her head, grinning widely.  
  
"Sure you could have, if you had to." She argued. She gave Cassandra's shoulder another bump. "But you will never have to." She promised.  
  


* * *

  
"Do you think I made the right choice?" Iron Bull said, drawing Aoife out of the slow daydream she'd slipped into. She was resting against his chest, naked and sweaty and wore out, and she propped herself up to look at him.  
  
"Right choice?" She asked, brow furrowed. Iron Bull sat up and Aoife slipped off of him to settle against his side.  
  
"Back on the Storm Coast last month. Did I make the right choice?" He asked again. Aoife frowned.  
  
"Do you regret it?" She asked him softly. Iron Bull shook his head almost before she'd finished speaking.  
  
"The Qun is all I've ever known. I know I spent a long time pretending to be Tal-Vashoth, but pretending and actually  _ being _ is . . . well, different." He admitted, staring into the fire in her room. "I hunted down so many others who turned their back on the Qun in Seheron. And now I've become one of them." She wasn't sure he'd meant to say it, his voice was so low. Aoife studied his face for a long moment before speaking.  
  
"If you hadn't chosen the Chargers then, people you had been working with for literal years, you would have never really been able to choose the Inquisition." She answered, and her voice was firm even as her heart was trying to jump out of her throat. Iron Bull turned his eye back toward her and watched her carefully in the flickering light from the fire. He reached out and twisted a loose lock of her hair around one of his fingers.  
  
"Or you," he said, voice low as he leaned in to steal a kiss from her, "I would never have been free to choose you."  
  
Things continued in much the same way for a few months. Iron Bull would stretch her to her limits and make her  _ beg _ for it. And it was nice, in more ways than one, because every moment of every day was spent making decisions for other people. Thinking through choices and solving their problems and giving out order took up her entire day when she was in Skyhold. So it was nice for a change to let someone else take charge.  
  
Even if it was only for a few heated hours in the confines of her bedroom (or his, or on the walls around the corner from the mage tower just beneath her balcony, or on top of that one still-crumbling stairway by the kitchens, or on the desk in the hidden library, or one really exciting time against the door of the war room after they'd dismissed a war council meeting -  _ "You'll have to be quiet this time, Boss," _ Iron Bull had whispered roughly against her ear, nibbling a line up her neck. She'd choked off a moan, her hips moving back against him in a slow roll. She felt him grin against her skin as he slipped one deft hand into her leathers,  _ "Let's see how good you can be for me, hmm?" _ \- and she still couldn't meet Josephine's slightly scandalized and knowing gaze without smiling.) it was nice to have someone else making the decisions for her.  
  
He lingered longer each time he came to her, moving fingers through the ends of her pale hair as she snoozed next to him. When he had wrung her out into a sweaty mess of elf, he would trace shapes into the skin of her back until she fell asleep. Once or twice in the past week, she had woken up to find the sheets still warm from where he'd slept beside her. Iron Bull would find reasons to steal a moment or two of her time more and more, kissing her slow and sensual before leaving her breathless and grinning.  
  
"So, I learned how you lost the eye." Aoife said one night. She was draped across him and listening to the steady beating of his heart, so she heard when it skipped just slightly.  
  
"See Krem's been telling stories about nothing again." Iron Bull grumbled.   
  
"He told me you saved his life." Aoife retorted, turning her head to look at him. He dragged one of his big hands up her back and shrugged like it was nothing before pulling her up to taste the skin at her collarbones. "It's not nothing, Bull. It's not." She whispered, the first time she'd ever called him anything other than 'The Iron Bull' to his face. He met her stare evenly, and somehow it was different when they were so close.  
  
"I did what was called for. Same as always." He said, and after that, she didn't have much time for talking.  
  
When she woke the next morning though, he was sleeping soundly beside her, one big arm thrown around her and the other tucked under his head. She laid against his chest and studied him. Iron Bull was someone who would ache and bleed and sacrifice for a perfect stranger, all because he'd thought it was the right thing to do. She idly traced the tattoos scrolling across his shoulders as she thought about that.  
  
She wasn't quite sure when he let himself be convinced that he wasn't a good man, but she swore to herself then and there that she would make them all pay for every scar they left on Iron Bull's body with scars of their own.  
  
Another week passed before she felt brave enough to give him his gift. They were tucked up in his room above the tavern, and Iron Bull was looking at her with a whole lot of  _ something soft _ shining in his eye. Aoife took a deep breath to steady herself.  
  
"I have something I'd like to give you, Bull." Aoife said. A soft grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.  
  
"Okay. What is it?" He asked, shifting to lean beside her. Aoife studied his face for a moment before reaching into her coat that lay beside the bed. She pulled out the wooden box carved with dragons that she'd found at Bonny Sims' stall just the day before.  
  
"Here." She said, holding it out to him. Iron Bull took the box from her gently.  
  
"This is amazing!" He said, holding it close to study the intricately carved patterns. Aoife laughed despite the nervousness fluttering in her stomach.  
  
"I'm glad you like it. But the gift is  _ inside _ ." She teased. Iron Bull tugged her to him and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.  
  
"No, the gift is that you thought enough of me to get me something. This is all just a nice bonus." He answered. Aoife flushed despite herself. She watched him pry open the box, and when he saw what was inside he went still. Even his breathing stopped. Aoife's nerves were beginning to get the best of her.  
  
"I didn't really have anything to go off of. I just knew you'd told me that, well. When people wanted to stay together, they did this. And I don't know if I really got it right, but we've been fighting all these dragons, and the teeth were there, and. I wanted you to know." Aoife said, breathless. "I wanted you to know how I felt,  _ vhenan _ ."  
  
It was the first time she'd called anyone  _ vhenan _ since Talagan, and the  word was heavy in her mouth. She felt her anxiety growing the longer that Iron Bull said nothing. When she had reached peak anxiety, he moved. He slowly reached into the box and drew out the dragontooth pendant she'd had made for him. It was encased in a shimmering cage of Dawnstone, because she knew he'd liked the way it looked.  
  
"It's not often that people surprise me,  _ kadan _ ." He said, shifting to drape the pendant around his neck. He met her eyes with a suspiciously watery one of his own.  
  
" _ Kadan _ ?" Aoife asked, barely breathing. Iron Bull slipped on hand into her hair and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.  
  
"It means 'my heart'." He said. Aoife felt herself go hot all over.  
  
" _ Kadan _ ." She whispered, trying out the unfamiliar word. Iron Bull's face was a picture of happiness and heat. Aoife pressed a hand to his chest, just under where the pendant rested. " _ Vhenan _ .  _ My _ heart." She said.  
  
" _ Kadan _ ." Iron Bull nodded and kissed her deeply.  
  
Aoife loved him so much she ached with it. There was still so much of her heart that was a graveyard without Talagan, but Iron Bull was still there, standing in the middle of it all, and she would not let him go without a fight.


	35. thirty-five - Solace 9:42 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And anyway, how many times can you end up in the Fade before it just decides to keep you?"
> 
> "Most people only make the trip once, darling."

**Thirty-Five. Solace 9:42 Dragon**

 

In the time that followed there was fire and screaming aplenty, and another trip to the Fade that left her aching for a lot of reasons.  
  
" _ And anyway, how many times can you end up in the Fade before it just decides to keep you? _ " Aoife asked, swinging her knives anxiously at her sides as they picked their way through the broken landscape. Hawke snorted at her side with amusement and shared a look with Dorian who walked on the other side of Aoife.  
  
" _ Most people only make the trip once, darling. _ " Vivienne replied dryly before ignoring the rest of them completely and scouting ahead with Cassandra.  
  
" _ I'm not really looking for a membership here, you know. I've got things waiting impatiently for me back home. _ " Aoife continued. Dorian laughed.  
  
" _ If by  _ things _ you mean sex, then I agree. That's an admirable reason to get out of here quickly. I've a word or two to have with your Commander. _ " Dorian said merrily. Hawke laughed as well.  
  
" _ I second that motion. Fenris is waiting, and if we take much longer, I wouldn't put it past him to tear his way into the Fade himself just to come find me. And then kick my ass for getting stuck here in the first place. And possibly yours too, Aoife, if he wasn't afraid you could beat him. _ " Hawke grinned, thinking of his lover. Cassandra scoffed at them all, but Aoife noticed she was listening carefully. She grinned at her friend.  
  
" _ I am under no illusion that you aren't all perfectly aware of the  _ exact _ nature of the relationship between The Iron Bull and myself. We are loud enough to have cleared up any misconceptions months ago. Let's get this show on the road, kids! _ "   
  
She was never  _ chosen _ , not really, and she'd never really believed that in the first place. But she'd fallen prey to the dangers of buying into your own legend. Having the truth spelled out so neatly stung in ways she hadn't really anticipated.  
  
And then she'd had to leave Stroud behind in the Fade, fighting off a Nightmare, and it was another kind of loss, really. But the thought of having to tell Varric - the first friend she'd made in the Inquisition - and Fenris (who had absolutely  _ refused _ to stay behind in Skyhold while they marched toward the fortress at Adamant) that she'd left Hawke in the Fade had choked her up before the thought could even play itself out entirely.  
  
Iron Bull had been collected for the most part when she'd returned from the Fade. Without caring about the people gathered around, the moment she'd cleared the Fade rift he had dragged her close to him. Aoife had kissed him softly.  
  
"Later, later.  _ Vhenan _ , later." She promised, holding his hands tight. That night, in the privacy of their own tent, he'd shaken so badly that he couldn't lay down.  
  
"I'm here,  _ vhenan _ . I'm sorry. I'm here. I'm sorry I worried you." Aoife whispered, tracing soothing lines against Iron Bull's skin. He buried his face in her neck, mindful of his horns, and sighed so shakily she wasn't convinced he wasn't crying.  
  
"You could have died in there," he whispered. Aoife shushed him softly.  
  
"I didn't. I didn't die. I'm right here." She answered. Iron Bull shook his head slowly.  
  
"You could have died in there, and I wouldn't have known, and I wouldn't have been able to save you,  _ kadan _ ." Iron Bull said urgently. Aoife pressed a kiss against his temple.  
  
"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't die though. I'm right here." She rested her cheek against him. He heaved in a deep, shaky breath.  
  
" _ Kadan _ ." He said, prayerlike. "Don't go where I can't follow." He whispered, lips brushing against the smooth skin of her collarbones. Aoife pressed another kiss into his temple and closed her eyes tightly.  
  
"I'll try. I'll try  _ vhenan _ . I'm sorry."  
  
He held her close to him, and when the sun rose hours later, neither of them had slept. There was more work ahead of them, though, so they dragged themselves out and started on their day. There were Wardens to deal with, and troops to dispatch, and still more rifts to close. They cleared out the Western Approach of all the Venatori they could find, and hunted down the dragon snatching troops off the old Chantry road.  
  
They found the old Tevinter ruins, with the strange, frozen demons, and unsealed the magic that had been stuck there. After they closed the rift in the center, Solas stepped up beside her.  
  
"Is your arm troubling you?" He asked her. The rift had been more difficult than some of the others, perhaps because of the time-magic involved, and the flash of power from her hand had been building. Aoife gave it a perfunctory glance before meeting his eyes.  
  
Despite all of their previous disagreements, she had decided they were friends. It was small moments like these that allowed her to think he was fond of her as well.  
  
"No more than it has been." She answered, fairly noncommittally. Solas frowned and reached out for her hand. She let him take it and watched as he studied it. "Should I be worried?" She asked as he released it and allowed her to slip her glove back on. Solas watched her for a long moment, a look on his face that somehow seemed like regret.  
  
"No more than you have been." Solas answered softly. Iron Bull watched the exchange with a heavy stare. Cole stepped up beside her, his face serious and drawn.  
  
" _ She aches but she smiles, lying like the pain isn't worrying, green and gasping and aching.  _ Your arm hurts, why don't you tell them the truth?" He asked, eyes puzzled. Aoife swallowed past the lump in her throat.  
  
"Some pains you have to feel, Cole. To remember." She said. He took her left hand in his.  
  
" _ Aching, burning, tunneling into my bones like daylight, dying from the inside out but standing tall _ ." He murmured. Aoife inclined her head.  
  
"I have a job to do, Cole. I have to survive to do it." Aoife said, and her tone was firm. Cole nodded.  
  
"Yes. I will help." He said, before flashing out of view.  
  
That night, when they made camp, Iron Bull held her and whispered soft, sweet words into her hair. Aoife hadn't been sure who he was trying to comfort more. She had been the one walking in the Fade -  _ again _ \- but he had been the one shaking.  
  
"I'm fine, Bull.  _ Vhenan _ , I swear. I'm fine." She kissed him then, clinging to him in the dim light of their tent.  
  
Later still, when they'd returned to Skyhold and she'd stopped moving long enough to lay down in her own bed, she'd clung to him in the dark. Iron Bull hadn't said anything at all then, but he held her like he'd known she was lying. He always did, after all.  
  
When Aoife finally fell asleep that night, curled against his side and as safe as she confidently could be, her brain wouldn't stop. There were nightmares, and then there were Nightmares. Aoife felt she could speak quite educatedly on the subject, as she'd met the Nightmare in the Fade.  
  
Valen's laughter drifted through her dreams, warm and always just out of reach. The teasing lilt of their voice when they called her  _ kit _ , the narrow-eyed stare they always gave her when they were worried, the press of their fingers in her hair as they braided it out of the way. Then there was fire and heat and screaming and they were gone.  
  
And then it was Siobhan, and her warning, and from the corner of her eyes Aoife could just see the old woman reaching for her. Then she was teaching her how to make bread, and laughing when Aoife had tried her ale for the first time. And then her voice was hard, then weak, and then she too was gone.  
  
And lastly, there was Talagan. The soft way he'd whispered her name the morning after they'd first slept together, like she was some kind of precious thing. The way he used to slip food into her pockets, or the proud look on his face the first time he'd braided her hair the way she liked. Then there was fire and screaming and she was alone.  
  
All of them were swirling around her brain and echoing into horrible, taunting visions. It was all her fault. They'd died because of her, because she had been selfish enough to love them, and Iron Bull was going to die too.  
  
When she woke with a start, she was curled around her aching wrist, facing away from Iron Bull and shivering.  
  
" _ Kadan _ ?" Iron Bull asked, tugging her close and curling an arm around her. Aoife cradled the throbbing limb closer to her chest like she could hide from the pain. Her hand hurt deeper every day, the pain less like a throb and more like something living and breathing beneath her skin.  
  
"I'm okay, Bull. I'm awake." She said, but her voice was shaky. She could hear Iron Bull's frown in the silence behind her. She was too scared to say anything about her hand, because what could anyone possibly have to tell her about a wound that had never before existed? Even Solas, the only one with any kind of expertise about the Fade, had nothing but tight frowns and half-answered questions about the aching green scar on her palm. Iron Bull swept a large hand down her back.  
  
"Don't go where I can't follow,  _ kadan _ ." He whispered in the darkness. Aoife turned to curl against him in the darkness.  
  
"I'll try,  _ vhenan _ . I'm trying." She whispered back.  
  
Her nights were filled with pain and nightmares, and each morning when she woke it was to learn that her people were dying.  
  
And the first people to go were her Clan.


	36. thirty-six - Solace 9:42 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Solas, I need a favor, and I need you to not be an asshole about it."
> 
> "I'm afraid to ask what this task might be, Aoife."

**Thirty-Six. Solace 9:42 Dragon**

 

Leliana met her at the foot of her stairs, her face grim.  
  
"What's wrong?" Aoife asked, straightening the scarf she wore when she was at Skyhold. Leliana didn't say anything, merely held out a bundle of knives and a blood-stained note. Aoife's heart leapt into her throat. She took the note from Leliana's hand with shaking fingers.  
  
_Da'len - I know not whether this will reach you. The Duke of Wycome is dead, and the soldiers of Wycome blame us. All the elves in the city have been killed, blamed for some plague that only strikes down humans. Now they hunt us as well. I have sent the younglings ahead, with something to prove their allegiance to you. Most of the clan is dead. Live well, da'len. You carry Clan Lavellan with you. They are coming for us. I am sorry I -_  
  
The note ended abruptly, but it was written in Deshanna's familiar handwriting. Aoife felt her eyes starting to blur. She resisted the urge to crumble the note in her hand and folded it carefully instead. She took the bundle of knives from Leliana a moment after. They were her favorite set, given to her by Valen. She had left them with Deshanna for safe-keeping when she'd come to the Conclave. " _To give me a reason to come home_ ," she'd joked lamely, squeezing Deshanna in a hug. She'd been meaning to go back before everything went tits up in Haven. She'd been meaning to send word, or something, to let Deshanna know she was alright. She blinked back the tears in her eyes.  
  
"The Inquisition has already sent soldiers. I am sorry that we are too late to save your clan." Leliana said softly. Aoife took a shuddering breath.  
  
"Where have you put the younglings?" She asked, and her voice was rough. Leliana motioned down the stairs.  
  
"Right now, they are gathered by the stables. The sight of the harts is keeping them entertained. Varric is with them, telling them stories about you." Leliana said, leading Aoife out of her tower. Their quick steps carried them to the stables much faster than Aoife was prepared for, and suddenly, all that was left of Clan Lavellan was standing before her. There were thirteen of them in all, ranging in ages from barely 15 to as young as 4. Ilya - Yara's boy, no more than ten now, Aoife remembered - saw her first and stepped toward her. His face was freckled and there were tracks in the dirt on his cheeks from his tears.  
  
" _Hahren_ ," the boy called, and his voice was thin and scared. The other children all followed Ilya's example and called out for her. Aoife stopped short. Now she was the only _hahren_ they had left. "The Keeper sent us away. She . . . the clan . . . _mahmen_ . . . they're all . . ." The boy fought back tears. Aoife stepped forward quickly to gather him in her arms.  
  
" _Ir abelas, da'len_ . I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I wasn't there to protect them." She said. The rest of the younglings gathered around her, and soon she had a lap full of teary-eyed children. Varric came to stand at her shoulder.  
  
"Let's get them inside, Twist. I think they'll be more willing to go with you than anyone else." Varric suggested, helping her up. "They could also do with something to eat, I'd wager." Aoife nodded, one of the littlest ones still wrapped in her arms.  
  
"Yes. Come inside with me, _da'len_ . We will get you fed." She said, sniffling. The younglings followed along easily enough. She caught sight of Iron Bull as they made their way inside, but a tight shake of her head kept him from joining her. There would be time for them to meet him later, and not when they were all starving and sleep deprived and scared.  
  
Aoife brought the younglings into one of the smaller dining rooms, the one where she usually shared a midday meal with Cullen and the rest of the war council. It was off the beaten path enough that no one would unintentionally stumble across the scared children. Varric helped settle them all around the table and met Aoife's gaze.  
  
"You all wait here with your _hahren_ , okay? I'll tell the cooks to bring something that'll go down easy." Varric said gently. Aoife thanked him softly and sat down with the children to wait.  
  
" _Hahren_ ?" Ilya asked, one hand fisted in the hem of her shirt. Aoife turned to meet his gaze.  
  
"Yes Ilya?" She answered. He sniffled a little and rubbed the back of his hand across his face, smearing snot as it went. Aoife grimaced a little and used the hem of his dirty shirt to clear it off his face. "What did you need, _da'len_ ?" She asked softly. Ilya sniffled again.  
  
"What's an orphan?" He asked quietly. In a moment, Aoife was four years old again, dirty and sniffling, tugging on her _hahren_ 's tunic and asking the same question. Aoife turned to pull Ilya into a loose hug.  
  
"An orphan is someone who doesn't have parents." She answered softly. Ilya sniffled again, and so did some of the other older children. "Where did you hear that word?" One of the older girls - Kyva, she remembered, fourteen and wild, just like Aoife had been - cleared her throat and drew Aoife's attention.  
  
"The scout that lead us into the castle said it.' _Tell Sister Nightingale we've found the orphans. The Inquisitor will want to know._ ' He whispered it, like we wouldn't hear him. Stupid _shem_ ." She muttered. Aoife frowned.  
  
"He was probably trying to be discreet, in an effort not to upset any of you. But I'll speak to Leliana about it." Aoife promised. The girl didn't seem convinced. Aoife glanced around at all of them and took a deep breath.  
  
"I know that right now you're all very sad. Or scared. Or angry. Or maybe all of those things. Or maybe you don't know how you want to feel right now. And I want you to know that it is absolutely okay not to know. Or to be angry. Or scared. Or very sad. You can feel however you are feeling for however long you want to. What happened to the clan was wrong. I am sorry I wasn't there to help. I am sorry that there is no one left but us. But you are all safe here. And one day, you might find it doesn't hurt as bad. And that's okay too." Aoife said gently. Kyva tugged one of the smaller children into her lap.  
  
"How do you know?" She asked, sounding terribly small. Aoife took another steadying breath.  
  
"When I was about as old as this little one," She started, pointing down at the little one in her lap who was fast asleep against her chest, "my parents died. The Keeper raised me until I was old enough to raise myself. So I'm an orphan too." She told them. The elder children all studied her for a long moment, wiser than most people thought younglings could be.  
  
"What if we want to leave? To hunt down the people who hurt our families?" The eldest asked, a boy of fifteen named Mahanon. His _vallaslin_ was a bright red tribute to Elgar'nan and his ears were just a little too big still for his body. They twitched agitatedly as he waited for her to answer him.  
  
" _Ciò che non mi uccide ha fatto un errore tattico.*_ " Aoife murmured, thinking of Valen. Mahanon's brow furrowed. "Vengeance is a tricky thing, Mahanon. I won't tell you not to chase it. But not yet. Spend some time here in Skyhold with the others. Rest and mourn. And then we'll talk about it again." She promised. Mahanon studied her face for a moment before he nodded.  
  
"Okay, _hahren_ . I'll wait." He answered.  
  
At that moment, a group of kitchen girls led by Varric swept into the room. They carried large trays laden down with steaming bowls of soup and thick slices of bread. One of each was set before each child. Aoife slipped out of the chair she'd been sitting in and passed the little child in her arms over to one of the girls, who took her gladly. Varric rested his hand against her back.  
  
"You okay, Twist?" He asked softly, watching the children begin eating. Two of the kitchen girls had stayed behind to help the little ones eat something. Aoife shook her head.  
  
"Nope." She said quickly. "Not gonna talk about it, either." She told him. Varric studied her for a moment before he shrugged.  
  
"You know where I am, Twist." He said quietly. Aoife nodded, noticing that a few of the children were eating so fast they were almost choking.  
  
"Hey, wait, slow down. You'll get sick if you eat too fast. Chew slowly, and take drinks of water. After you've eaten, there will be someplace set up for you to rest. You're safe now, and no one is going to take you away from each other. And the food isn't going anywhere. If you want more when you finish what's in front of you, we will get you more." Aoife promised. The younglings all nodded and finished eating slowly.  
  
As soon as they were all eating again, Aoife told Varric she was stepping out of the room.  
  
"I'll be back to see all of you after you've had some time to rest, okay? Be nice to Varric, he's my friend and I think you'll like him a lot." Aoife said, giving Varric a pat on the shoulder.  
  
"Yes, _hahren_ ." The children chorused. Aoife gave them a tight smile before turning on her heel and quickly stepping out of the room. She walked quickly through the winding servant hallways before she found one that went mostly unused. There were still holes in the walls, wide spaces where the bricks crumbled away due to time and neglect, allowing huge chunks of bright mountain sunlight to bathe the hallway in pale gold. She stood there for a long moment, staring blindly out the hole and across the mountains surrounding Skyhold, before a broken sob wrenched its way out of her chest. As soon as it had left her lips, she heard footsteps drawing closer. Aoife composed herself just in time for Sera to come hurtling around the corner.  
  
"More elfy elves around Skyhold, eh?" Sera asked wryly. Aoife bit back another sob.  
  
"I'm really not in the mood right now, Sera." Aoife said, fists clenched around the bundle of knives and the blood-stained letter. Aoife could taste the sour regret on her tongue as she thought about the younglings just a few halls away. Sera clicked her tongue and reached out to take Aoife's hand.  
  
"I know what it's like to lose, right? Might be I don't really understand why you still care about those people who didn't want you, but it doesn't mean that I don't care about you." She said quickly, like the thought of having a conversation about feelings was enough to make her queasy. Knowing Sera for as long as she had, it likely was. She gently pried the letter out of Aoife's hand and smoothed her fingers between Aoife's. "It's okay that you're sad." She said finally. Aoife met her eyes for just a moment, just long enough to see her sincerity, before she cracked.  
  
"I couldn't protect them, Sera. I couldn't help them at all. I was supposed to protect them." She sobbed. The loss made her knees weak, and she sank into a huddled mass against the wall of the hallway. Sera sank down beside her.  
  
"Bad people do bad things. Not your fault you're not a baddie. You can't know everything. Even you can't be everywhere." Sera said, pulling Aoife tight against her as she sobbed. "But I can. The Jennies will help. We don't normally help the people who can help themselves, but you're not just some stuffed shirt. You're my friend." Sera promised.  
  
She let Aoife cry into the shoulder of her tunic for a while, and when Aoife finally calmed down, she wiped Aoife's face with the edge of her tear and mustard stained shirt. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes.  
  
"I don't know if I told her I was sorry for how I left the first time." Aoife said softly. It was another kind of grave she had to dig in her heart then, a grave for the woman who'd been a mother when Aoife hadn't known any. Sera shrugged.  
  
"She probably knew." She said. Aoife nodded.  
  
"Yeah." She agreed. Deshanna probably had.  
  
They sat in silence for another minute before Aoife hauled herself up on her feet. She gave Sera a soft smile.  
  
"Thanks, Sera." She whispered. Sera scoffed and jumped up on her feet.  
  
"Don't you tell anyone I let you have _feelings_ all over me. They'll go thinking I'm friendly or some shite, and then I'll have to stab them with an arrow or something." Sera threatened. Aoife let out a small laugh.  
  
"Sure, Sera. It's between us." She promised. She tucked the bundle of knives into her belt with a mental note to clean and oil them later. "Time to go be the boss again." She sighed. Sera's sharp laugh followed her out of the hallway.  
  
Shen slipped past the room where the younglings were still eating, heartened to hear Varric's warm voice telling them stories about dragons and heroes. She'd have to warn him that Dalish younglings _loved_ stories before he inadvertently found himself the adoptive father of thirteen Dalish children. She wondered if he'd mind at all. She made her way to the rotunda and found Solas seated at his desk.  
  
"Solas, I need a favor, and I need you to not be an asshole about it." She said by way of greeting. Solas glanced up from the text he was studying, eyebrows raised high.  
  
"I'm afraid to ask what this task might be, Aoife." He drawled, watching her make her way toward him. Aoife perched on the edge of his desk, ignoring the faint frown he gave her as she shoved papers out of the way. She sat there for a moment, studying his face. His frown deepened when she said nothing. "Aoife?" He prompted. Aoife pulled the note out of her pocket and set it on the desk in front of him.  
  
Solas' brow furrowed, but he took the paper with gentle hands. She studied his face while he read, watching understanding wash across it like a sunrise.  
  
"Your clan is gone?" He asked, meeting her gaze. She nodded slowly. "Why?" He asked, his voice strangely hoarse. Aoife took a deep, steadying breath.  
  
"Something about the Duke of Wycome. Leliana sent people to investigate. I'm sure we'll know more in a few days." She blinked and seemed to look through him. "All that is left of my clan is sitting in a room on the other side of the castle, listening to Varric tell them stories about dragons." Solas inhaled sharply.  
  
"The younglings made it then?" He asked. Aoife nodded again.  
  
"Thirteen of them. The youngest is around four." Aoife told him. Solas swore under his breath.  
  
"Are they well?" He asked quietly. Aoife narrowed her eyes.  
  
"Would you be?" She asked lightly. Solas dipped his head in a small nod.  
  
"Of course not. Of course they aren't." He agreed. He took a deep breath. "What do you need of me, _lethallan_ ?" He asked her.  
  
"I know you have so many other things on your plate. But they'll need a teacher, someone to tell them about their people." She said softly. "I wouldn't trust anyone but you to do it." Solas had a strange look on his face.  
  
"You know my feelings on the Dalish." He began, and Aoife nodded.  
  
"I also know your feelings about learning. They're children, Solas." Aoife said. "Children like learning. I can't promise the older ones will listen. In fact I know that Mahanon and Kyva both like to pick fights just to have them. And I'm not asking you to carve out a bunch of your time to do it. But, while you're here in Skyhold, if you have a free night or afternoon?" She asked. Solas studied her face for a long moment before nodding.  
  
"I would be happy to teach the younglings, _lethallan_ ." He told her. He reached out and took her left hand in his, sending an unnecessary pulse of healing through it. "Thank you for your trust." Aoife shook her head.  
  
"Thank you for agreeing. I'll let the younglings know." She told him, leaning forward to press a quick kiss on his cheek. Solas flushed faintly.  
  
"It is the absolute least I could do for you." He demurred. "I'll go introduce myself while Varric is there. He can at least help smooth over any rough edges I might find." He said dryly. Aoife laughed slightly, but nodded.  
  
"That might be for the best." She agreed. Solas stood from the chair and bid her a soft goodbye. She sat on the corner of his desk for a long moment, taking deep breaths, before she decided to head back up to her rooms. At least there, people would knock before entering, which would give her enough time to wipe her face.  
  
She slipped as quickly and as quietly upstairs as she could, dodging more than one noble looking for her. When she finally stood at the top of her stairs, she felt another shudder work through her.  
  
" _Kadan_ ." Iron Bull said from across the room. Aoife spun quickly to find him seated at her desk. His face was drawn and serious. Aoife looked at him for a long moment before throwing herself across the room. He met her halfway, tugging her tight against his chest. "Let it out, _kadan_ . I can take it." He said softly.  
  
Aoife cried herself out against his chest. She cried so hard her throat was raw and her chest ached from trying to breathe. She cried until she had to push herself out of Iron Bull's arms so she could throw up. And when he tugged her back into his arms, singing something else that sounded incredibly sad as he moved to sit on the bed and hold her, she cried some more.  
  
"What does that mean?" She asked him when she could breathe again. He tucked her under his chin and hummed a little before he started singing.  
  
" _The ocean breathes salty, won't you carry it in? In your head, in your mouth, in your soul. And maybe we'll get lucky and we'll both grow old. Well I don't know. I don't know. I hope so._ ** " His voice was quiet in her ear as he sung. Aoife sniffled and tightened her grip on him.  
  
Iron Bull held her the entire time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Ciò che non mi uccide ha fatto un errore tattico. - What doesn't kill me has made a tactical error. - Maxim 35, Seventy Maxims of Maximally Effective Mercenaries. She says this in Italian because I headcanon that Antivan is Italian, and it was something Valen said to her a lot.
> 
> **The song Iron Bull sings to her is Ocean Breathes Salty, the version by Sun Kil Moon. It's really lovely if you feel like looking it up.


	37. thirty-seven - Solace 9:42 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Aoife, have you seen Varric this morning? I have a word or two to have with him."
> 
> "Oh? Do you want to talk to him, or do you want to 'talk' to him?
> 
> "That's not . . . I didn't . . . Why do you always do this?"

**Thirty-Seven. Solace 9:42 Dragon**

 

A week had passed since the younglings had come to find her at Skyhold. They were settling in better than she'd imagined. Solas had done as he'd promised, and met with the younglings nearly every afternoon so far to teach them one thing or another. Varric and Iron Bull usually joined them for dinner, with Varric telling stories and Iron Bull letting all of them climb on him like a living obstacle course.  
  
Leliana's scouts sent word, letting them know that a well in town had been poisoned with red lyrium, which had driven the humans mad.  
  
"The nobles now in charge send their deepest regrets, professing that they will do anything to repay this horrible mistake." Leliana told her that morning, eyes shining dangerously. Aoife was briefly reminded of Leliana in that horrible red-lyrium stained future. She gritted her teeth.  
  
"I want my clan back." She growled. Josephine shifted uncomfortably beside her.  
  
"We could use this to gain a foothold in the Free Marches. Lady Guinevere Volant is in the city and -" Josephine began, attempting to smooth over the awful feeling in the room. Aoife slammed her hand against the table.  
  
"I don't _care_ about Lady Volant, and I don't _care_ about Wycome, and I don't _care_ about using the death of my entire clan as a bargaining chip for fucking supplies, Josephine!" Aoife replied, nearly shouting by the time she was done. The silence that followed was heavy. "There may not have been any love between the clan and me, but they slaughtered them. The humans in that city slaughtered everyone I had ever known. I don't want their fucking supplies. Or their apologies. That city can fucking _burn_." Aoife growled. Josephine shifted uncomfortably. Aoife swallowed back another growl. "I'm sorry for yelling at you Josephine. It's not your fault." Cullen cleared his throat.  
  
"The eldest boy, Mahanon, you said? He's been hanging around the training grounds. He hasn't worked up the nerve to ask for training himself yet, but I think it's just a matter of time." Cullen said, desperately searching for something to ease the tension in the room. Aoife rolled her shoulders and sighed.  
  
"Yes, I imagine it is. If the boy wants to learn, let him. At least if he's learning how to hold a sword the right way I don't have to worry about him running off half-cocked into the night." Aoife grumbled. She turned to face Josephine again. "Josie, I _am_ sorry. Do whatever you feel is right. But don't ask me to play nicely, please. One day I might be able to be a bigger person about this, but today is not that day." Josephine set her writing tablet down and reached out to take Aoife's hands in her own.  
  
"No. I apologize. _Non dare né sale né consiglio finché non te lo chiedi_.* I often try to fix things that aren't ready to be fixed." Josephine said softly. Aoife gave her a tight squeeze.  
  
"It's okay, Josie. I know you mean well." She took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. "I think I need some air. We'll rejoin after lunch?" She asked, meeting each of their eyes in turn. They all nodded and she quickly turned and left the room.  
  
She didn't track much of her path out of the war room, but she was halfway across the lower courtyard when she was stopped by a shrill yell.  
  
"Auntie?!" She heard, carrying through the thin afternoon air. Aoife turned sharply, surprised to find Irenna standing by the main gate and waving madly.  
  
"Irenna?" Aoife called, heading toward her. She was just slightly taller than she'd been the last time Aoife had seen her. "Is that you?" The young woman squealed with excitement and shot past the guard that had been just managing to hold her back. He made an aborted reach for her that was cut off when Aoife swung the young woman into her arms. For the latest time that week, she felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.  
  
"Oh, Auntie! I'm so glad to see you! We thought you were dead! You told Da you'd come back and then you didn't! And then we heard about the Conclave and Haven and everything! And then there was fighting, and demons! I'm so glad you're not dead!" Irenna sobbed the words into Aoife's shoulder. Aoife held the young girl tightly.  
  
"Where's your father? And your brothers?" Aoife asked, glancing back toward the gate. She didn't see them in the immediate area, and worry set in quickly.  
  
_Please, not them too._ She thought quickly, eyes roving through the crowd of people entering the gate. _Please let me have this one thing._ Irenna sniffled in Aoife's arms.  
  
"They were behind me coming up the bridge. But they were taking too long and I was too excited to see the castle. I ran ahead and was waiting for them at the gate when I saw you." Irenna said, and as she finished speaking, Aoife saw Tomas and the boys step up to the guard by the gate. Aoife set off toward them, still carrying Irenna along with her.  
  
"Tomas!" She shouted, letting go of Irenna as she got closer and throwing herself at the man. He caught her with a surprised grunt.  
  
"Aoife? Is that you?" He asked, hugging her tightly. Aoife felt the tears she'd just barely been holding back start to squeeze through her tightly shut lashes.  
  
"I'm so glad you're okay." Aoife cried. Tomas hugged her tightly, whispering a prayer, before he set her back on her feet.  
  
"Maker's breath, girl. We've been worried sick about you. When your clan left for Wycome we thought that meant you were gone." He told her, studying her. She cried a little harder at the mention of her clan.  
  
"They're dead, Tomas. They're gone. The Duke of Wycome had them killed." Aoife told him. Tomas frowned and tugged her back in for another hug.  
  
" _No longer are we hunted. We shall never again be prey, waiting to be struck down. Let us take up the blades of our enemies and carve a place for ourselves in the world. The People heard him, and girded themselves in the armor of the dead, and sharpened their blades and arrows, and prepared for war.**_ " Tomas whispered, holding Aoife close.  
  
"I wonder what Shartan would have to say about me." Aoife said. Tomas held her out at arms length and wiped her face gently.  
  
"Interesting things, I'm sure." He mused. Aoife laughed softly and nodded. "We thought you'd died in Haven, or at the Conclave. There was no word, and no way to find out either." Tomas told her. Mikhail and Jonas waved from their spot behind their father. Aoife gave them a small wave in return.  
  
"No, no, I made it out." She said, blinking back more tears. "Obviously." She laughed a little, wiping her face. Tomas scoffed at her.  
  
"Obviously, she says." He grumbled. "We decided to come join the Inquisition when we heard about Haven. I thought if you'd made it out, this might be where we could find you." He told her. Aoife waved the guard away who had been standing awkwardly beside them and desperately trying to appear as though he wasn't listening. She lead Tomas and his family through the gate and into the lower courtyard.  
  
"Well, welcome to Skyhold." She said, gesturing around the wide courtyard. "Have you had any trouble on your way?" She asked, leading them up the stairs. Tomas shook his head.  
  
"Not really, no. We nearly ran afoul of some red Templars just south of here, but we managed to make it out okay." Tomas said softly. Irenna was nearly vibrating with excitement next to him.  
  
"Auntie, Mikhail used his magic to save us!" She whispered excitedly. Aoife cocked her head. She hadn't know Mikhail _had_ magic to begin with. Tomas shushed his daughter quickly.  
  
"Irenna!" Mikhail exclaimed, glancing worriedly between Aoife and the soldiers around them. Aoife quickly held up a hand.  
  
"No, it's okay Mikhail. I didn't know, but no one will hurt you while you're here." She promised. Mikhail nodded, but he still looked scared.  
  
"That's easy for you to say," Jonas whispered, "you're not a mage." He said pointedly, glancing at the daggers strapped to Aoife's thigh. Aoife followed his gaze and nodded.  
  
"No, I'm not." She agreed. Tomas frowned at his three children.  
  
"And neither is your brother." He said roughly. Aoife waved a hand to draw their attention.  
  
"No, really. It's fine. The Inquisition allied with the rebel mages. We have a tower here dedicated to magical education and research, and mages are free to come and go as they wish. Mikhail won't be in any danger of being sent to a circle or hunted by a Templar." She promised. The four of them still looked unconvinced. "What? Don't you trust me?" She asked. Jonas spoke again.  
  
"I mean your track record isn't great . . . " He began, frowning. Tomas smacked the back of Jonas' head lightly.  
  
"Knock it off." Tomas warned. He glanced around them again before meeting Aoife's eyes. "It's not that we don't trust you. We just don't trust all of _them_." He said, waving around at the assorted soldiers and scouts moving to and fro through the courtyard. Aoife frowned a little before waving at Cassandra as they passed her.  
  
"Aoife, have you seen Varric this morning? I have a word or two to have with him." Cassandra called, somehow sounding dire despite the small grin working its way across her face. Aoife raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Oh? Do you want to talk to him, or do you want to _talk_ to him?" She asked, teasing. Cassandra flushed lightly.  
  
"That's not . . . I didn't . . . Why do you always do this?" She groaned, shaking her head. Aoife laughed brightly.  
  
"Check the side hall. Ever since we put the younglings there he's been on high demand." Aoife told her. Cassandra nodded and stomped away, a flush still high on her cheeks. Aoife turned back to Tomas and the kids, and motioned for them to follow her again.  
  
"Anyway, like I was saying. There's nothing to worry about. Mikhail is going to be fine. And you _should_ trust me because I'm -"  
  
"Inquisitor!" Ser Morris greeted her as she pushed the door to his office open. "To what do I owe this visit?" He asked. Aoife grinned a little at the shocked look on the kids faces.  
  
"Good afternoon, Ser Morris. This is my dear friend Tomas, and his children; Mikhail, the eldest. Irenna, the middle one here, and Jonas, the youngest. They need somewhere to stay, and Tomas will go stir-crazy if he doesn't have something to do soon. Maybe he can help you out for a while? Requisitions have been in high demand, and he worked as a trapper and a trader before. Mikhail could use some training, I'll put in a word to Fiona and see if she can set something up that'll work for her and her mages. Irenna can mend and weave, and she was becoming a fair hand with a blade the last time I saw her. I'll get her set up with the Chargers, Stitches could always use another hand. And Jonas," she paused to glance at the youngest of the group, "what do you like to do besides whittle, Jonas?" She asked. He blinked at her for a moment before answering.  
  
"I'm fond of animals." He said softly. Aoife smiled. Ser Morris cleared his throat.  
  
"That will do well. Master Dennett could use a hand in the stables, but he won't let any of the scouts help him, and the young members of Clan Lavellan are all scared of him. Says all of them will unsettle the horses." Ser Morris said mildly. Aoife snorted.  
  
"As if the dracolisks don't do that already." She mused. Jonas' eyes went wide.  
  
"You have a dracolisk? A real live dracolisk?" He asked, excitement beginning to color his face. Aoife shook her head slowly.  
  
"No." She said softly, teasing. She let the boy stew for just a moment. "I have five." His eyes grew incredibly wide. Ser Morris cleared his throat again.  
  
"As you say, Inquisitor. I believe the rooms over the garden are finally cleared and ready for use. Ambassador Josephine mentioned something about using them for visiting nobles, but I believe this will be a perfect use for them. I'll prepare some documents and see about getting you started with me tomorrow. Is that amenable for you, Master Tomas?" Ser Morris asked mildly. Tomas met his eyes quickly.  
  
"Oh, uh. Yes. That sounds lovely." He said. Ser Morris nodded and began to write something down in his ledger.  
  
"The rooms will be ready by this evening. If you need anything else, please do not hesitate to ask." He said, effectively shooing them from his office. Aoife led the group of them back out into the daylight. They stood in a loose circle just behind the tavern, and Aoife grinned at all of them. They were silent for a moment before Irenna squealed.  
  
"You're the Inquisitor!?" She yelled, eyes bright. Aoife nodded, her grin spreading further across her face.  
  
"Who put you in charge?" Tomas asked. His voice was gruff but something in his eyes looked a whole lot like pride. Aoife shrugged.  
  
"I dunno, someone without better sense, I guess." She laughed. Tomas scoffed and pulled her into another tight hug that was joined by the children. "I'm so glad you're all okay." Aoife said again.  
  
She'd lost her clan, and that was a strange sort of ache she was making place inside herself for. But she'd also gotten it back, in a way. Tomas took a deep, shuddering breath and pressed his forehead against hers.  
  
"Me too, girl. Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Non dare né sale né consiglio finché non te lo chiedi - Do not give salt or advice until you're asked for it.
> 
> **Dissonant Verses, Canticle of Shartan 9:13


	38. thirty-eight - August 9:42 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're sleeping with a seven-foot tall Qunari with giant horns, but I'm the undue influence?"
> 
> "Sure. He can only give me orgasms. You can give me ideas."
> 
> "Andraste forbid."

**Thirty-Eight. August 9:42 Dragon**

 

She found the letter on the corner of her desk that morning. On top of it was a short note from Mother Giselle.  
  
_I think you should see this, My Lady. I do not feel as though the young man would appreciate my bringing it to his attention. Perhaps you could speak with him? - Mother Giselle._  
  
Aoife sighed heavily. Mother Giselle had been pretty clear about her opinions on her Tevinter friend, even going so far as to ask them to be _discreet_ about their friendship.  
  
" _You're sleeping with a seven-foot tall Qunari with giant horns, but_ I'm _the undue influence?_ " Dorian asked her, pacing around his little alcove in the library. Aoife had laughed and shrugged.  
  
" _Sure. He can only give me orgasms. You might give me_ ideas _._ " Aoife teased. Dorian gave her a sharp look.  
  
" _Andraste forbid._ " He sighed.  
  
Aoife smiled fondly, thinking of her friend, and flipped open the letter. After a few words, she'd stopped smiling.  
  
" _Your Reverence,_ " the letter began,   
  
" I understand that you feel inadequate to the task of bringing Dorian to a secret meeting. Even in the asking, I find it difficult to believe myself. Considering my son has rebuffed all contact, this is the only way. I know him; he would be too proud to come if he knew—even just to talk. That is all we wish to do. The thought of Dorian in the south, placing himself in the path of such danger, alarms us more than I can express.  
  
If this somehow succeeds, we have a family retainer at the Vandral Hills watching for Dorian's arrival. He will bring the boy to us, somewhere private. If Dorian utterly refuses to go with him, it ends there . . .  and there is nothing we can do. We are at our wit's end.  
  
Graciously yours,  
  
_Magister Halward of House Pavus._ " Aoife heaved out a deep, deep sigh.  
  
"Great," she drawled, folding the letter back up, "gonna be a great day." She dressed quickly and headed down to find Dorian. He was standing at the table near his favorite chair, reading over something when she approached.  
  
"Dorian," Aoife called out, drawing his attention, "there's a letter you need to see." She stepped up to him, letter in hand. Dorian grinned brightly.  
  
"A letter?" He asked teasingly. "Is it a _naughty_ letter? A humorous proposal from some Antivan dowager?" Aoife shook her head.  
  
"Not quite." She tugged him into his little alcove. "It's from your father." She said softly. Dorian's features shuttered almost instantly.  
  
"From my father, I see. And what does Magister Halward want, pray tell?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
"A meeting." She said softly. His eyes narrowed.  
  
"Show me this letter." He said, holding out his hand. Aoife let him take it. She watched as several emotions flickered over his face as he read it. When he was finished he scoffed.  
  
" _I know my son_ ." He repeated, voice bewildered. "What my father knows of me would barely fill a thimble! This is so typical. I'm willing to be this 'retainer' of his is a henchman, hired to knock me on the head and drag me back to Tevinter." He grumbled. Aoife tilted her head.  
  
"You think your father would actually do that?" She asked him. Dorian paused where he'd begun pacing and gave her a shocked look, almost like he'd forgotten she was there.  
  
"No . . ." he said abruptly, then shook his head, "although I wouldn't put it past him. Let's go. I want to meet this so-called 'family retainer'. If it's a trap, we escape and kill everyone. You're good at that. And if it's not, I send the man back to my father with the message that he can stick his alarm in his 'wit's end'." He growled. He was beginning to work up a good head of steam. Aoife took a small step back to give him room to pace.  
  
"There seems to be bad blood between you and your family." Aoife said delicately. Dorian stopped pacing for a moment to laugh derisively.  
  
"Interesting turn of phrase. But you're correct. They don't care for my choices, nor I for theirs." He said, returning to his pacing. Aoife's brow furrowed.  
  
"Because you wouldn't get married? Because you left?" She asked. Dorian threw one of his hands up in exasperation.  
  
"That too." He agreed. Aoife watched him pace for a moment.  
  
"I think you should speak to this retainer." Aoife said softly. Dorian turned on his heel to face her, his face bright with irritation.  
  
"I didn't ask what you thought, did I?" He snapped. Aoife took another small step back. Dorian stopped and rubbed a hand over his face, somehow avoiding messing up his mustache. "That was unworthy. I apologize." He said, closing the space between them to take Aoife's hands in his. Aoife shrugged.  
  
"You're upset, I understand. Varric has some business for us in the Hinterlands. We could head to Redcliffe first and meet the retainer before heading off to Varric's task." Aoife offered. Dorian nodded.  
  
"I wonder how much my father paid this man to wait around just in case I showed." He sighed heavily and gave her hands a little pat. "We'll find out soon enough."   
  
They left the next morning, with Cassandra and Varric in tow. They made it to Redcliffe without incident, and both Cassandra and Varric agreed to find something else to do while Dorian and Aoife made their way to the tavern. It was empty when they walked in, and Dorian scoffed.  
  
"Uh-oh. Nobody's here. This doesn't bode well." He said in a sing-song voice. Aoife rolled her eyes.  
  
"Maybe we're just early." She said softly. She glanced toward the stairs that lead up to the rooms overhead just as someone walked through the archway.  
  
"Dorian." The man said. At the sound of his voice, Dorian stiffened. He turned sharply to face the man.  
  
"Father." He said, voice low. Dorian glanced back to Aoife. "So the whole story about the 'family retainer' was just . . . what? A smoke screen?" He asked. Dorian's father took a few steps closer.  
  
"Then you were told?" He asked. "I apologize for the deception, Inquisitor. I never intended for you to be involved." Aoife opened her mouth to speak when Dorian beat her to it.  
  
"Of course not. Magister Pavus couldn't come to Skyhold and be seen with the Dread Inquisitor. What would people think?" His voice was angry and sharp. "What is this exactly, Father? Ambush? Kidnapping? Warm family reunion?" Magister Pavus sighed lightly and looked to Aoife again.  
  
"This is how it has always been." He said lightly. Aoife frowned.  
  
"You went through all of this trouble to get Dorian here. Talk to him." She said, nodding toward Dorian. Dorian glanced between the two of them.  
  
"Yes, Father. Talk to me. Let me hear how mystified you are by my anger." He said, and Aoife could see he was just getting started. Magister Pavus took another deep breath.  
  
"Dorian, there's no need to -" He began, but Dorian cut him off.  
  
"I prefer the company of men." He said, glancing at Aoife. His face was hard. "My family disapproves. Aoife's eyes narrowed.  
  
"The 'company of men'?" Aoife asked delicately. She knew what he meant, but she hadn't thought any less of him for it. Dorian's face hardened further.  
  
"Did I stutter? Men, and the company thereof. As in sex. Surely you've heard of it." He snapped. Aoife held up a hand in surrender.  
  
"You've never been with a woman then? Or wanted to?" She asked. Sexuality was fluid for her, and had been for all the rest of her partners. Dorian sighed gently.  
  
"Allow me to say: women are fine creatures. You, for instance, are amazing above all others." He paused, almost searching for the words. "They're just . . . not for me. That's not so beyond belief, is it?" He met her eyes, searching. There was something very fragile on his face. Aoife took a step toward him and gave him a soft smile.  
  
"You can be whoever you want to with me, Dorian." She promised, and Dorian gave her a small smile. Magister Pavus sighed sharply.  
  
"This display is uncalled for." He snapped. Dorian turned back to him with a frown.  
  
"No, it _is_ called for. _You_ called for it by luring me here." Dorian retorted. Magister Pavus shook his head.  
  
"This is not what I wanted." He said.  
  
"I'm never what you wanted, Father. Or had you forgotten?" Dorian snapped back at him. Aoife took another small step toward Dorian.  
  
"That's . . . a big concern in Tevinter, then?" She asked quietly. Dorian shook his head.  
  
"Only if you're trying to live up to an impossible standard. Every Tevinter family is intermarrying to distill the perfect mage, perfect body, perfect mind. The perfect leader. It means every perceived flaw - every aberration - is deviant and shameful. It must be hidden." His glare was sharp even as his voice was beginning to weaken. Aoife looked between the two men.  
  
"Your father might be here to reach out, Dorian. You could give him a chance." Aoife suggested softly. She wasn't sure that was the case, and if Dorian told her he wanted to leave immediately, she would take him out regardless of what Magister Pavus wanted. Dorian shook his head.  
  
"Let's just go." He said roughly. Magister Pavus took a step toward them, speaking quickly.  
  
"Dorian, please. If you'll only listen to me." He began. Dorian took a few angry steps toward his father.  
  
"Why? So you can spout more convenient lies?" He asked, gesticulating wildly. He thrust a finger toward his father, glancing over his shoulder at Aoife. " _He_ taught me to hate blood magic. 'The resort of the weak mind.' Those are _his_ words. But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life?" He stepped away from his father, hurt all over his face. "You tried to _change_ me."  
  
"I only wanted what was best for you!" His father insisted, stepping toward Dorian.  
  
"You wanted the best for you!" Dorian argued. "For your fucking legacy! Anything for that!" He stepped away from his father and braced himself up against the bar, staring blankly down at the surface of it. Aoife stepped up beside him. Dorian's face was a riot of emotion, most of it upset. Aoife's heart hurt.  
  
"Dorian . . . if you want to go, we'll go. But . . ." She trailed off, staring between father and son. What his father had done was inexcusable, but Dorian was the type of man who needed closure. "Don't leave it like this. You'll never forgive yourself." Aoife said softly. Dorian studied her face for a moment before taking a deep breath.  
  
"Tell me why you came." He said, stepping toward his father again.  
  
"If I knew I would drive you to the Inquisition . . ." Magister Pavus began slowly. Dorian shook his head, angry again.  
  
" _You_ didn't. I joined the Inquisition because it's the right thing to do." He stepped away from his father with a sad look. "Once, I had a father who would have known that." Dorian shook his head and headed for the door. Magister Pavus glanced down at the floor and took a deep breath before speaking again.  
  
"Once," he began, folding his hands together, "I had a son who trusted me. A trust I betrayed." Dorian stopped before he reached the door and turned to face his father. "I only wanted to talk to him. To hear his voice again. To ask him to forgive me."  
  
Dorian glanced toward Aoife. She nodded toward his father.  
  
"I'll be just outside if you need me." She told him, squeezing his hand as she passed by.  
  
"Thank you, Inquisitor." Magister Pavus called as Aoife opened the door. She looked back over her shoulder and met Dorian's eyes.  
  
"I didn't do it for you." She told Magister Pavus, before giving Dorian a soft grin. "Just outside, okay?"  
  
She sat on the steps outside the tavern for nearly two hours, watching the people of Redcliffe coming and going. The village seemed to be healing nicely after the threat Alexius had caused, and she was heartened to see it. She could see Varric and Cassandra just down the hill at the docks, discussing something that didn't even seem to be headed toward violence, although she knew that nothing made Cassandra violent so quickly as Varric did. She smiled a little as she thought of the tiny budding relationship that might be growing between them.  
  
Behind her, the door opened quietly and then shut with a click. Dorian came to sit beside her. They were quiet for a moment before Dorian spoke.  
  
"He says we're alike. Too much pride." He sighed deeply. "Once I would have been overjoyed to hear him say that. Now I'm not certain. I don't know if I can forgive him, Aoife." Dorian admitted. Aoife gave him a long look.  
  
"You don't have to. Not now, not ever." She told him firmly. The corner of Dorian's mouth lifted in the smallest of smiles. "Are you alright, Dorian?" She asked. Dorian shrugged.  
  
"No. Not really." He took a deep breath and reached out to take Aoife's hand in his. "Thank you for bringing me out here. It wasn't what I expected, but . . . it's something. Maker knows what you must think of me now, after that whole display." He carefully wasn't looking at her, but Aoife could see the uncertainty in his face. She leaned against his shoulder and gave his hand a light squeeze.  
  
"I think that you're very brave." She said honestly. "And I think I'm very sorry I had to live so much of my life without you in it."  
  
"Brave?" Dorian asked. Aoife nodded.  
  
"It's not easy to abandon tradition and walk your own path. It's even harder when the path you want to walk is in direct opposition to what is expected of you." She answered. Dorian was stunned into silence for a long moment before he rested his head on top of hers. "You don't have to be anyone but Dorian, whatever that means." She promised. Dorian heaved in a shaky breath.  
  
"At any rate, I think it's nearly time to drink myself into a stupor. It's been that sort of day." He said lightly. Aoife let out a small laugh.  
  
"Later. Let's go gather Varric and Cassandra before Varric does something to make Cassandra want to kill him." She said. Dorian laughed a little at that.  
  
"I think we're too late, if that's the measure we're looking for." He said. When he met her eyes, he gave her another gentle smile. "Thank you, Aoife." Aoife shrugged.  
  
"You're my dearest friend, Dorian. There is nothing I wouldn't do for you." She promised. Dorian huffed lightly and stood, dusting off his robes.  
  
"Oh, stop it now. All this affection's going to break me out in hives." He helped her to her feet, and they headed off to gather the others.  


* * *

  
Her name was Bianca Davri - _the_ Bianca - and Aoife hadn't quite decided if she liked her or not. She was a brilliant smith, and if she hadn't known Varric was in love with her, she would have quickly realized it after spending just a few moment with the two of them. If the way Cassandra was gripping her sword was any indication, she had _also_ realized the nature of the relationship between Varric and Bianca. But Bianca was also flippant and dismissive and teasing, and she was almost certainly leading them into a trap. Aoife knew it in the way she kept shifting nervously, just a little twitch in her shoulders that belied unease.  
  
Varric had been desperate and ashamed when he'd asked Aoife to come help clean up what he called his mess. After they met up with Dorian's father in Redcliffe Village, they made their way to the Valammar entrance. As they fought their way through to Bianca's destination, Aoife felt more and more aggravated. There were darkspawn to fight - and thankfully Dorian was able to seal the holes they were using, and Cassandra's growing aggravation made her nearly unstoppable. And after they killed the darkspawn, there were Carta forces to fight through. They'd apparently been watching the Inquisition for months, something that left a sour taste in Aoife's mouth.  
  
And then there was the door. The special door that Bianca had built. It was, admittedly, a marvel of a creation, but the sight of it set Aoife's nerves on edge. They fought through the short tunnel and found another door at the other end. And a desk. And a key.  
  
"There you are!" Bianca said brightly, picking up the key. She stepped over to the second door and locked it tight before tucking the key into a pouch at her waist. "They won't be able to use this entrance again." She said confidently. Varric's eyes narrowed as he looked at her.  
  
"Bianca . . ." he began softly, shaking his head. Aoife glanced between the two of them.  
  
"That key looks exactly like the one you used to open the first door. How did they get a copy?" Aoife asked. Bianca shifted and glanced down at her feet before answering.  
  
"Well, funny story, that." She began, facing them both. "When I got the location, I went and had a look for myself. And I found the red lyrium, and I . . . studied it." She finished lamely. Varric stepped forward, anger on his face.  
  
"You know what it does to people!" He snapped. Bianca narrowed her eyes at Varric.  
  
"I was doing you a favor! You want to know how this stuff works just as much as I do! I just . . . wanted to figure it out." She argued. Aoife frowned at her.  
  
" _Did_ you figure it out?" She pressed. Bianca met her eyes and blinked in surprise.  
  
"Well . . . actually, yes." She told her. "I found out that red lyrium . . . it has the _blight_ , Varric! Do you know what that means?" Bianca asked, growing excited.  
  
"What? That two deadly things combine to make something super-awful?" He snapped. Binaca shook her head, excitement beginning to glow in her eyes.  
  
"Lyrium is alive! Or . . . something like it. Blight doesn't infect minerals. Only animals. I couldn't get any further on my own, so I looked for a Grey Warden mage. Blight and magical expertise all in one, right?" Bianca asked, shrugging. "I found this guy, Larius. He seemed really interested in helping my research. So  . . . I gave him a key." Varric's brow furrowed.  
  
"Larius? He was the Grey Warden we met in Corypheus' . . . oh, shit. I knew something seemed off." Varric groaned.  
  
"I didn't realize until you said you'd found red lyrium at Haven. I came here and, well . . . then I went to you." Bianca said softly. Aoife sighed as she felt the beginnings of a headache growing between her eyes.  
  
"That name mean something to you, Varric?" She asked shortly. Varric nodded his head.  
  
"He was at the Grey Warden prison where we found Corypheus. And he _definitely_ wasn't a mage before." He turned his angry gaze back to Bianca. Aoife frowned deeper.  
  
"You had to know we'd find out what happened, Bianca. Why did you insist on coming with us?" She asked. Bianca took a short step toward them.  
  
"Varric told me what people were doing with the red lyrium. I . . . I had to help make this right." She insisted. Aoife glanced up at the ceiling and said a quick prayer for patience.  
  
"You couldn't have known what would happen, I guess." She said slowly, still staring at the ceiling. Varric snorted beside her.  
  
"Maferath's balls, she couldn't. I told her exactly how bad this shit was! I told her to keep away from it!" He turned his gaze back to Bianca.  
  
"I know, I screwed up. But we did fix it! It's as right as I can make it!" She insisted. Varric took an angry step forward.  
  
"This isn't one of your machines! You can't just replace a part and make everything right!" Varric growled. Bianca shook her head.  
  
"No, but I can try, can't I?" She argued. Her eyes hardened. "Or am I supposed to wallow in my mistakes forever, kicking myself, telling stories of what I should have done?" She asked sharply. Varric scoffed angrily.  
  
"As if I would tell stories about my own mistakes!" He sneered at her. Aoife stepped between the two of them.  
  
"Hey! What's done is done. Arguing about it now won't bring back anyone who died because of this shit." She rubbed at her forehead as she spoke. The headache that had been blooming behind her eyes was trailing across her forehead and reaching for the backs of her ears. Varric sighed and stepped away from both of them.  
  
"We've done all we can here. Bianca, you better get home before someone misses you." Varric said softly. Bianca's face crumpled.  
  
"Varric," She began, reaching for him, but he waved a hand her direction and turned away.  
  
"Don't worry about it." He said shortly, before walking away from them both. Aoife met Dorian and Cassandra's eyes and jerked her head in Varric's direction. The two of them followed after him without another word. She could hear Dorian's voice echoing as he began chattering rapid-fire - his go-to in situations that made him uncomfortable. Bianca watched Varric walk away before she took a step closer to Aoife.  
  
"Get him killed, and I'll feed you your eyeballs, Inquisitor." Bianca said in a low voice. Aoife's grin was all knife-edge-sharp as she leaned close.  
  
"I'd fucking like to see you try." She growled. She held Bianca's stare for a long moment, unblinking, before the other woman took a step backwards. Aoife straightened and brushed a hand down the front of her cloak. "Try not to let out any other disasters, Bianca. I've only got enough room on my plate right now for the one." Aoife said airily, before waving goodbye and following the others out of the cave.  
  
Varric was waiting for her at the entrance to Valammar. She could see Cassandra and Dorian lingering on the other side of the doorway, ostensibly to give them the illusion of privacy. She would bet every coin she had they were both listening in.  
  
"Twist, I . . ." He started as soon as he saw her. Aoife held up a hand.  
  
"Don't. Please." She said. She threw an arm around his shoulders and squeezed.  
  
"I'm glad to have answers, but _shit._ The second she showed up here I knew . . .I just . . . I let this mess happen. I gave her the thaig. I'm not good at dealing with shit like this." Varric mumbled. Aoife shrugged.  
  
"I don't think anyone is equipped any better than you are." She said mildly. Varric shook his head.  
  
"No, no. The point is . . . I don't . . . I don't deal with things!" He said, exasperated. "If Cassandra hadn't dragged me here, I'd be in Kirkwall right now pretending none of this was happening."   
  
"You know that's not true, Varric. You've worked as hard as any of us to stop Corypheus." Aoife argued. Varric sighed sharply.  
  
"Is that true?" He asked lowly. "I don't even know anymore." He ran a heavy hand over his face. "Thank you. For your help back there." Aoife shrugged.  
  
"It's my job. Like literally. You guys all agreed." She teased. Varric gave a half-hearted chuckle in response. "Besides. Everyone's got a shitty ex story. I just got to live in a part of yours." She said lightly. Varric scoffed.  
  
"Yeah, but _my_ shitty ex story has lead to countless people dying." He drawled. Aoife shrugged again.  
  
"Well, some of us are over-achievers." She hummed. Varric still didn't meet her eye. "It's done. The door is closed now, physically and metaphorically, I think. They can't get any more of it out that way, and that's the win I'll be taking from this." Aoife's tone brooked no argument. Varric finally met her eyes and sighed.  
  
"I suppose you're right, Twist." He agreed. Aoife nodded.  
  
"Of course I am. That's also my job." She said lightly, leading him to the entrance.  
  
Varric laughed, and they stepped out into the warm afternoon sun.


	39. thirty-nine - Kingsway 9:42 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you ever regret it, Twist?"
> 
> "Probably not, but be more specific."

**Thirty-Nine. Kingsway 9:42 Dragon**

 

No sooner than they'd returned from the Hinterlands, they were off toward the Arbor Wilds. The assault on the Temple of Mythal was a surprise that Aoife had not been ready for.  
  
She had dragged Solas, Varric, and Iron Bull along with her, in the hopes that one of them would be able to keep her from strangling Morrigan. She'd agreed to take her on after the absolute shitshow of the ball at the Winter Palace - Celene and Briala had been reconciled, Gaspard had been denounced as a traitor to the crown and dealt with, and the Inquisition had found themselves leaving Halamshiral with an arcane expert in tow.  
  
Admittedly, Aoife actually quite liked Morrigan most of the time. The woman had a dry sense of humor about as wide as the Waking Sea, and she  _ had _ been helpful over the last few months in figuring out what exactly it was that Corypheus might be after.  
  
But between the snotty comments tossed haphazardly between Solas and Morrigan when they thought Aoife wasn't listening  (or forgot that she was), and the way Morrigan had begun lecturing her about her own culture (as if there was anything  _ she _ could teach Aoife about the gods that weren't listening anymore), and the fire and screaming and screaming and fire, Aoife was losing the very center of her calm.  
  
And then there were the Sentinels, lost elvhen that awoke only to fight and then sleep again. Elves so far removed from her and the Dalish that Abelas told her she was like the shadow of his people. Elves that were dying with every moment they tarried in the Temple.  
  
And then there was Samson, the broken soldier still chasing his glory. An addict twisted by need and driven by the desire to still be needed.  
  
And then there was the  _ Vir Abelassan _ . The Well of Sorrows.  
  
Aoife knew immediately that no matter what she did, not a single person would be happy about it.  
  
They couldn't leave the well alone, just waiting for Corypheus to come and claim it. And she could see the naked hunger in Morrigan's eyes. The way she was using all the right words and all the right arguments to try and hide just how much she coveted the well itself.  
  
"I could take it. This is  _ my _ heritage." Aoife heard herself say suddenly. Morrigan shook her head.  
  
"You lead the Inquisition. This is not a risk you can take. Further, you do not have the training to make use of such a tool. I do, and I would willingly use it to further your cause. Please, Inquisitor." Morrigan said, her eyes desperate. Aoife glanced over her shoulder at the rest of their group.  
  
"Thoughts?" She said. Solas stepped forward first.  
  
"She is right about only one thing. We should take the power which lies in that well." Solas said, holding Aoife's gaze for a long moment. Iron Bull spoke up next.  
  
"Any chance this well could help us against Corypheus, I say you take it." He said, but his stare was sharp and worried as he watched her. Varric stepped up to Aoife's side and rested a hand against her back.  
  
"I'm not really sure you should ask any of us, Twist. This is a lot of . . . weird. I barely understand how any of this shit works." He said. Morrigan huffed impatiently.  
  
"Enough deliberation, Inquisitor. We must decide now. Choose." She said. Her eyes were just as bright and strange as Aoife's own as they stared at each other, and Aoife wondered in a quick moment if they might have been friends, in a different time.  
  
Aoife knew she couldn't hold it. She couldn't risk containing everything the well had to offer - she wasn't a mage, and the anchor was already burning a hole through her that kept her awake more nights than not. What would a magical wellspring fed by centuries of elves dedicated to the will of Mythal do to her?  
  
And it was that thought that burned her the most. Her people had lost so much of themselves that to give the most powerful relic of Elvhenan they'd ever found over to a  _ human _ mage seemed like such a waste. But in the end, there was little else she could do. Solas wouldn't take it, and he'd seemed so heartbroken when she'd asked him.  
  
"Morrigan." She said shortly, and she tried so hard to swallow back the sudden bitterness in her throat that it had made her physically ache. Morrigan stepped into the well and drew its power into herself. After a great flash of light, the well was gone, and Morrigan stood in the middle of where it had once been, disoriented, but whole.  
  
"Morrigan?" Aoife asked, stepping closer. The woman rattled off something in elvhen that was too fast for Aoife to catch, the words older than she'd ever heard, but Solas stiffened beside her.  
  
"I believe it is time to leave. We have what we came for, more or less." He suggested. Aoife nodded, opening her mouth to say something, when Corypheus appeared. After that, they were too busy escaping through the eluvian to worry about anything else. Morrigan had slipped away into her rooms almost as soon as they'd slipped through the eluvian in the castle, and Solas had left the group while muttering something about his studies. Iron Bull tugged at the end of her braids before slipping off to the tavern, and Varric slapped a hand against her back.  
  
"See you this evening?" He asked. Aoife nodded her head tiredly.  
  
"I'll be there." She promised. He gave her a small smile and walked off with a wave. The rest of the day was spent ordering their troops out of the Arbor Wilds and answering countless letters.   
  
When everyone was finished asking everything of her, Aoife trudged up to Varric's room. He was seated at his desk, bent over a piece of parchment. He glanced at her as she pushed open the door before pointing to his bed.  
  
"Lay down before you fall down, Twist. But boots off." He said, glancing down at her muddy boots. Aoife sighed heavily, but tugged them off before tumbling into the mess of blankets on top of Varric's bed. She wrapped her arms tight around a pillow and stared over at Varric.  
  
She'd been disappearing to his room once or twice a week since they'd made it to Skyhold last year. Usually he told her stories under the guise of testing out his newest works, while she took the chance to nap under his watchful eye. Aside from the nights that Iron Bull spent in her bed, it was the only time she got to actually rest. So far, no one had actually worked up the courage to ask either of them about it. She was willing to bet that Iron Bull knew everything there was to know, but she enjoyed hearing the rumors that were whispered around the castle. She especially enjoyed the way Cassandra flushed a bright red every time they were mentioned in front of her.  
  
"I think Cassandra has a thing for you. Or she wants to." Aoife mumbled into Varric's pillow. The dwarf in front of her glanced at her so quickly she actually heard his neck crack.  
  
"Maker's left nut, Twist, don't joke with me like that. I'm too young to have a heart attack." He groused. Aoife let out a soft laugh.  
  
"Not joking. She gets all red in the face when people talk about me and you, and not the angry 'Don't Talk About My Inquisitor That Way' sort of redness she usually gets when people talk about me. Looks like jealousy. And she's asked me six times this week how you're holding up after the mess in Valammar. And just this afternoon she spent fifteen minutes trying to ask about your emotional state without outright asking about your emotional state." She yawned and snuggled deeper into Varric's bed. Varric watched her with narrow eyes.  
  
"Hmm, I think you're just overtired." He answered. Aoife hummed softly and closed her eyes.  
  
"Maybe." She conceded. They were quiet then, like they were sometimes. Varric let her be quiet. The only sounds were the scratch of his quill on the parchment and the soft rustle of papers as he worked. After some time had passed, he spoke again.  
  
"Do you ever regret it, Twist?" He asked her, not looking up from the parchment he was writing on. Aoife glanced at him lazily, blinking sleep out of her eyes.  
  
"Probably not, but be more specific." She managed to say around a yawn. Varric stopped writing long enough to grin at her.  
  
"Take your pick. Leaving your clan, Crestwood, Antiva, Kirkwall, going to the Conclave. Any of the weird, shitty things that have happened since." He paused to read over something. "Punching Solas in the face?" He suggested, grinning, and it startled a laugh out of her.  
  
"Definitely not that one." She laughed again before shrugging. "I don't know if regretting it could do anything but make it weigh more, and I've got enough weight to carry around." She admitted softly. Varric smiled at her like he understood what she meant, and having dealt with the Bianca issue just the month prior, Aoife thought he probably did. He sighed fondly at her and pushed himself up from his chair.  
  
"Well, I suppose that's all true. Now, what do you say we make our way to the tavern and see if we can't beat that Qunari of yours at a game of Wicked Grace?" He tugged her off the bed to standing. Aoife knelt down and gave him a tight hug, tucking her head into the dip at his shoulder. Varric returned it after a short moment of surprise.  
  
"Thanks, Varric." Aoife sighed. Varric leaned into the hug and rubbed her back.  
  
"Anytime, Twist. Anytime at all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all I want out of DA4 is the Varric Romance I've been denied TWICE now.


	40. forty - Harvestmere 9:42 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I will fight the entire Orlesian court for you, Vivienne. With my bare fucking hands."
> 
> "My darling, you are a treasure."
> 
> "I mean it. Those poncy fuckers can answer to me."

**Forty. Harvestmere 9:42 Dragon**

 

"You have a problem." Sera told her, snatching her on her way through the tavern. Aoife stopped short to look at the other woman. She pointed downstairs to the tavern floor. "That, over there, is a full tavern. But everyone's drinking alone. They're all up their own arses about the Inquisition.  _ I _ can't have fun with everybody whinging. And they'll fall on their swords before Coryphenus can push them." Sera scoffed. Aoife sighed lightly.  
  
"Well of course, I've built this whole Inquisition around what's fun for you, Sera." She teased lightly. Sera stuck out her tongue at Aoife.  
  
"Har har, you're very funny. I'm thinking pranks. Set a few up, knock a few down. You in or not?" She asked, grinning. Aoife shrugged.  
  
"I'm not really sure how annoying everyone is going to help, Sera." Aoife admitted. Sera sighed.  
  
"Look, you have experts for everything. And I know a bunch of tight-arsed people when I see them. Oh, sure, they'll complain. But what they'll  _ really _ mean is 'Thank you for distracting me from the end of the stupid world.' Come on!" Sera urged. Aoife glanced down at the reports she'd been in the process of taking to Cullen's office and shrugged.  
  
"Ah, hell, why not? Lead the way." Aoife said, tossing the papers down to Iron Bull. He'd make sure they made it to Cullen at some point, she was pretty sure. If he didn't take them, Krem would. A shocked grin crossed Sera's face.  
  
"What? Really?" She asked. Aoife nodded.  
  
"Really really." She grinned. Sera laughed.  
  
"I  _ knew _ you were different! Let's go!" She grabbed Aoife by the hand and took off at a run. She ended up leading her straight into Cullen's office first.  
  
"Well I guess I could have brought those reports with me after all." Aoife said wryly. Sera giggled as she shut the door behind them.  
  
"Right. General Uptight is gone. Have a search about. Find something to mess with and give your soldiers a laugh." Sera waved Aoife into the office while she crouched down to rummage through a pile of things near the door. Aoife made a slow circle around the office before she stopped at the desk. Sera saw her and joined her.  
  
"What, the desk? Oh, yes! Center of the empire and all that. What to do, what to do . . ." She murmured, placing a hand on her chin. Aoife shrugged lightly.  
  
"What's the plan, Sera?" She asked lightly. Sera tilted her head, thinking.  
  
"Well, thing looks heavy. Don't want to move or break it." Her eyes lit up suddenly. "I got it! Easy one! Just a slip of something under here." She said, bending own to shove a wad of paper under just one leg of the desk. She stood with a satisfied grin. "There! Won't notice much, but it's just that little bit wonky. He's so in control, it'll piss him royally. I tell one of the soldiers, and boom! The General seems like people. And since he works for you,  _ you _ seem like people. Come on! Next one!" She said, and she grabbed Aoife by the wrist again.  
  
They raced down the bridge and into the rotunda, disturbing Solas as they ran through laughing. He called something after her, but Sera had tugged Aoife out through the Great Hall before she could ask what he'd said. They ended up in Josephine's office.  
  
"Right. Little Lady Prissypants. Have a look for something she likes too much." Sera said, combing through the bookshelf behind Josephine's desk. Aoife turned to study the office critically, and her eyes landed on the doorway.  
  
"Sera." She said, heading for the door. Sera followed after her.  
  
"What, just the door?" Understanding crossed Sera's face. "Where she greets every important idiot! Yes!" Aoife laughed a little.  
  
"What do you have in mind for here?" She asked softly. Sera cackled.  
  
"Get a bucket." She whispered. Aoife nodded and slipped quietly down to the kitchens. After snagging a bucket full of water - which she explained she needed for something trivial - she made her way back to the office. Sera quickly rigged it up above the doorway, where it would fall and douse Josephine as soon as she opened the door. Sera observed her handy-work with pride.  
  
"Classic, yeah? Five minutes of sloppy boss gets you weeks of happy kitchen staff. Except for the one who cleans it up, I suppose. But whatever! Next stop!" She called, leading Aoife out a side door and down a back hallway behind the war room. They took side stairs all the way up to the rookery, where Leliana was strangely absent.  
  
"Right, something to get our Shadow of Birds loosened up. Gotta be something. Have a search." She instructed, poking through some of the birdcages stacked nearby. Aoife glanced around, but the space was mostly impersonal. The only thing she found was a large chest, locked tight. Sera came to look over her shoulder.  
  
"What's that? A locked . . . no. Leave that. Not interested in her hidden things. Not for just a bit of fun." Sera said, shaking her head. Aoife shrugged.  
  
"It's not like Leliana to really leave anything out that could be used against her." Aoife pointed out. Sera hummed under her breath.  
  
"Maybe . . . feed her messengers something gassy? No, birds don't parp. But they flap! And . . .uh. Huh." She said, thinking out loud. Aoife opened her mouth to say something when a voice called up to them.  
  
"Who's up there?" One of the scouts called. Aoife met Sera's eyes, grin growing across her face.  
  
"Go!" She yelled, dragging Sera out along behind her. Sera's snickering laugh followed along behind her. They slipped out a side door and made their way down to the courtyard. Aoife pressed at a stitch in her side that she'd gotten while trying not to laugh as they escaped. Sera sniggered beside her.  
  
"Do you have time still? There's something I want to do for you. Just come, you won't need your gear and stuff." Sera asked, suddenly nervous. Aoife sucked in a deep breath.  
  
"Explain?" She asked. Sera sighed.  
  
"Just, come on, will you? I haven't wanted to do this with anyone for a long time." She said. Aoife nodded, and Sera dragged her back into the tavern. They slipped up to the second floor where Sera's room was, and then she tugged Aoife out onto the roof. There was a small basket set there, and when they'd both settled as comfortably as one could assume to be on a roof, Sera reached in and took out two cookies. She handed one to Aoife and took a bite of the one she still held. Aoife glanced between the cookie in her hand and Sera.  
  
"We're eating. On a roof." Aoife stated. Sera grinned.  
  
"They're horrible, right? And raisins, ugh! I frigging still hate cookies!" Sera said brightly. Aoife shook her head.  
  
"No, no. It's just that . . . well this is all just a little confusing, Sera." Aoife clarified. Sera nodded her head, suddenly very serious.  
  
"I got caught stealing when I was little, yeah? You get alienage or worse for that, but the 'Lady Emmald' took me in. She was sick and couldn't have children. I had no parents. It worked out." Sera shrugged and seemed to shake herself. "Anyway, she gets a year sicker, so I ask her about cookies. Because mums make cookies. I can pass that down, or something. Turns out, she couldn't cook. She missed that talk with  _ her _ mum. The ones she 'made' she bought and pretended. Aww, right? Well, no. She was a bitch. She hid buying them by keeping me away from the baker. She did  _ that _ by lying that he didn't like me. Didn't like  _ elves _ . She let me hate so she could protect her  _ pride _ . I hated him so much, and I hated . . ." Sera trailed off, looking sadder than Aoife had ever seen.  
  
Aoife shifted closer to Sera, pressing her shoulder against Sera's. Sera glanced away.  
  
"Anyway, she died. And I hate pride. 'Pride cookies'." She took a deep breath and forced a bright smile. "But! This friendship thing is working out, so I thought I could make some . . . 'friendship cookies'? Because then I could like them again? Ugh, it's stupid." Sera said, shaking her head. Aoife bumped her shoulder.  
  
"What made you so mad about this Lady Emmald?" Aoife asked softly. Sera glanced away again.  
  
"She hurt people." She said shortly. Aoife glanced down at the cookie that had crumbled in Sera's clenched fist.  
  
"They're just cookies, Sera." She said softly. Sera shook her head.  
  
"It was not just cookies! Lie to herself, fair play. Only hurts her. But she made me think there was something wrong with me! And the baker! I made his life shit. Why not? It  _ seemed _ like he deserved it. I mean, if you don't give a child a cookie because of appearances, you're a monster. Stupid, pride-whore noble." She shook her head again. "I know, I said it was stupid. That's why I want to get rid of it. I want to make better cookies."  
  
"I apologize, Sera." Aoife said. "I wasn't thinking about your feelings. And it's not stupid. It's not stupid at all to want to replace a bad memory with a better one." Aoife said, holding Sera's gaze. Sera flushed under her scrutiny.  
  
"Yeah, I guess." She said, shifting nervously. Aoife took pity on her and bumped her shoulder again.  
  
"It sounds like a great idea, Sera. Making better cookies. But why up here instead of, I don't know, somewhere with an oven?" She asked softly. Sera met her eyes.  
  
"Because it feels weird to do this and I didn't want anyone around, you know, laughing." She admitted softly. Then she grinned again. "Plus, if they were bad, we could throw them at people? These are really bad. Frigging raisins." Aoife laughed.  
  
"Now you're talking! Best two out of three on the well?" She asked. Sera sniggered.  
  
"I  _ knew _ I liked you. Bonus for bouncing off helmets! And thanks." She said, knocking Aoife's shoulder with her own. "For stuff." Aoife started to respond when an angry voice was heard in the courtyard.  
  
"You! Sera! Aoife! Get down from there this instant!" Josephine called, dripping wet and marching angrily toward them.  
  
"Oh, frig!" Sera laughed, shoving at Aoife. "She did it!" She called, before scrambling off the roof. Aoife followed right along behind her.  
  
She managed to avoid Josephine for most of the afternoon, but when she saw her that night at dinner she made it through most of a serious apology. The effect was spoiled somewhat by Josephine's wry announcement of " _ Well, at least the Duke had a reason to bathe. He doesn't believe in soap. _ " that sent Sera into gales of laughter.  
  
As time passed, Aoife learned very quickly that there was waiting and then there was something entirely new called  _ waiting _ .  
  
Waiting was the act of passing time between desired events, something Aoife was capable of doing while whiling away the hours merrily.  
  
_ Waiting _ , on the other hand, was a highly regimented, scheduled  _ affair _ , in which she had to play host to people she didn't care about, make appearances at places she would never visit again, and have dinner with people who barely remembered not to refer to her as  _ rabbit _ or  _ knife-ear _ (and she still remembered the first time Cassandra had heard some new recruit refer to her as  _ that uppity knife-ear in charge _ and had nearly come unglued. Aoife had highly enjoyed watching Cassandra just  _ eviscerate _ the man in a training session later in the day. It still brought a fond tear to her eye when she thought about it.).  
  
In between all of her other carefully scheduled events, Aoife took the time to run errands and finish odd tasks that her advisors kept trying to convince her were far too lowly beneath her. One such task was collecting elfroot for the mages. The tower needed a much higher quantity than the garden could supply for their newest batch of healing potions, and Aoife was  _ dying _ to get out of the castle again. She managed to shout each of her advisors down at the war table just enough for them to agree to let her go.  
  
She was making her rounds before leaving, checking on each of her Inner Circle and seeing who she could convince to tag along, when Vivienne stopped her.  
  
"My dear, I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time." Vivienne called, drawing Aoife's attention. Despite not always agreeing with Vivienne's opinions, Aoife had always liked her, so she detoured around to Vivienne's balcony.  
  
"What can I do for you, Vivienne?" She asked. Vivienne motioned to one of the chaise lounges in her sitting area and waited for Aoife to sit before she spoke again.  
  
"I find myself in need of an alchemical ingredient, and I think you're the only one capable of retrieving it for me." Vivienne began, somewhat hesitant. Aoife, who was instantly excited at the thought of even more time out of the castle, nodded eagerly.  
  
"What is it and where can I find it?" She asked, grinning at the woman. Vivienne's perfectly practiced courtier smile softened into something gentle.  
  
"I need the heart of a snow white wyvern. I believe the creature can be found in a grove in the Exalted Plains." Vivienne answered. Aoife nodded her head.  
  
"Well, I've been meaning to do some wyvern hunting anyway. Their hide makes great leather for armor, and we've been running low. Sure Vivienne. I can take care of that for you. When do you need it?" She asked. Vivienne waved a hand in front of her.  
  
"Oh, don't trouble yourself to rush, my dear. Whenever you find it convenient. If you'd like, I'd be more than happy to accompany you to find it." Vivienne offered. Aoife beamed and nodded.  
  
They set out for the Exalted Plains the next day, with Cassandra and Iron Bull tagging along.  
  
"Wyvern hunting is almost as good as dragon hunting,  _ kadan _ ." Iron Bull said sagely, wiggling his eyebrows at her. Aoife stifled a laugh.  
  
" Yes, and we all know how you feel about dragon hunting,  _ vhenan _ ." Aoife teased. Cassandra let out a heavy sigh behind the two of them as they set off out of Skyhold.  
  
"It is going to be a long trip." Cassandra drawled teasingly. Aoife sent her a bright grin.  
  
They made their way to the Exalted Plains in good time, and found the grove Vivienne mentioned easily enough.  
  
"The wyvern should be somewhere near here." Vivienne said. They'd just rounded a corner of the grove when sure enough, there it was. A large, snow white wyvern, all spitting mad and everything.  
  
The fight was handled quickly enough between the four of them, with Iron Bull laughing victoriously with every slash of his blade. Aoife was able to remove the heart cleanly as Cassandra and Iron Bull set about dressing and cleaning the rest of the wyvern. Aoife wrapped the heart in heavy cloth to prevent it from getting blood all over everything and handed the parcel to Vivienne.  
  
"Here you go! One fresh snow white wyvern heart, as requested!" Aoife said brightly, pressing the bundle into Vivienne's waiting hands. She cast a quick ice spell on it, preserving it. Another, smaller wyvern drew close to them, hissing angrily, and Iron Bull and Cassandra broke away from their task to fight it off. Vivienne watched them leave before meeting Aoife's stare evenly.  
  
"Thank you." She seemed to be weighing her words carefully before reaching some sort of decision. "I know it was a lot of trouble to ask. Could I trouble you a little longer and ask that you come with me somewhere?" Vivienne asked.  
  
For the first time, Aoife saw doubt in Vivienne's eyes. Doubt and old, aching fear. Aoife agreed without hesitation.  
  
And oh, how she  _ ached _ for Vivienne when she stood with her by Duke Bastien's bed. The look on her face was naked hurt and the barely scabbed wound left by deep love.  
  
"There's nothing here, now." Vivienne said softly. She strode into the wide hall of Duke Bastien's estate and paused, seemingly lost. Aoife had never really thought she could ache for Vivienne like she'd ached for so many others. She slipped beside Vivienne and tucked her hand into the other woman's. They stood together there for a long moment before Vivienne's grip tightened. "There's nothing here now." She repeated. Aoife squeezed her fingers gently.  
  
"I know." She said softly. Vivienne met her eyes and Aoife took a deep breath. She hadn't told anyone except Iron Bull and Varric about Talagan, although she figured that Leliana probably  _ knew _ about him. She squeezed Vivienne's fingers again. "Talagan is gone, and Deshanna is gone, and there is nothing for me there, now." She whispered. Vivienne's carefully poised expression shattered.  
  
"Oh, Aoife. I don't know what to say." She whispered. Aoife leaned into her shoulder and gave her a watery smile.  
  
"That's a good start, Vivienne." She answered. Vivienne stood with her for another moment before schooling her expression.  
  
"There are some things I must take care of before we can leave. Would you mind waiting for me? There's a small sitting room just down the hall. I'll be there as soon as I can." Vivienne directed Aoife to the small room and left her after giving her another small smile.  
  
The estate around her was quiet except for the low murmur of servants and the click of shoes against marble floors. Aoife thought about the way she'd had the space to grieve, and wondered if Vivienne would have even that luxury. When the door swung open quietly, about an hour after Vivienne had left her there, Vivienne seemed brittle somehow. Aoife met her eyes as the other woman came to sit down in front of her. She opened her mouth to say something, but Aoife held up a hand.  
  
"Talagan was the first man I ever loved. And when he died, so did I. In every moment since, even the most beautiful ones, I have been nothing but a shadow of the person I was when he was alive. Every breath I have taken has tasted like ash. So, you don't have to say anything to me Vivienne. If you want to talk, and tell me about him, you can. But you need to know that you don't have to. You can own this grief however you want to. Grieve for the rest of your life, grieve for a year, grieve for just tonight. Whatever you need. And if someone wants to suggest that you aren't handling this correctly, they can have a discussion with me and my fists." Aoife's voice cracked for just a moment when she said Talagan's name, but she finished strongly. "I will fight the entire Orlesian court for you, Vivienne. WIth my bare fucking hands." She promised.  
  
It was quiet for a long moment before Vivienne laughed. It was a sad laugh, too tearful to be real joy, but still. Vivienne wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled.  
  
"My darling, you are a treasure." She said softly. Aoife shrugged.  
  
"I mean it." She said, voice full of warning. "Those poncy fuckers can answer to me." Vivienne's smile grew bigger.  
  
"I know." She said. Aoife reached across the space between them to take Aoife's hand. "Thank you for coming with me, darling. I don't think I could have done it alone." She said. Aoife shook her head.  
  
"Of course you could have. You're the strongest woman I know, and I know Cassandra. But you didn't have to. That's why I'm here. I'm your friend, Vivienne." Aoife explained. Vivienne smiled again, softer this time.  
  
"I know." She promised. And she squeezed Aoife's hand.  
  
So Aoife spent her days filling requisitions and gardening and hunting down ancient mosaic pieces and casting judgements and crafting ridiculous weapons with Dagna, and for a woman who was so used to  _ doing _ she was fairly certain the  _ waiting _ would drive her mad.


	41. forty-one - Harvestmere 9:42 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dorian's loving the attention. I think Mikhail's got a little bit of crush, too."
> 
> "I'm sure he does. That flashy Vint loves attention of all kinds. He'll have to let him down easy, though. Don't think that kid can compete with Cullen for Dorian's affections."

**Forty-One. Harvestmere 9:42 Dragon**

 

"Wash your back for you,  _ kadan _ ?" Iron Bull asked her on her way up to her high tower. She had spent the day with Cole, for once blissfully free of meetings and appointments. Cole had somehow gotten her to help in the kitchens again with some of the younglings - although, whether their presence had been a help or a hindrance would depend entirely on who had been asked after the fact - and Aoife was covered head to foot in a light coating of flour and eggs.  
  
Iron Bull leaned against the door to her rooms, watching her as she climbed higher and higher to stand before him. She flushed deeply when he raked an approving stare across her form. Regardless of how long they'd been sleeping together, it still sent a sweet thrill of heat up her spine when he watched her hips sway while she walked.  
  
" _ Vhenan _ , when did you get back?" Aoife asked brightly, closing the distance between them. Iron Bull had been gone for a full two weeks doing a clean up mission with the Chargers, and Aoife had missed him. He reached for her when she hit the top of the stairs and pulled her close. He leaned down to give her a swift kiss before sliding one hand through her hair and tugging her braid loose.  
  
"This morning. I peeked in on you and Cole about an hour ago to measure the damage. Josephine was properly mortified. The water should be warm though, if you're ready to get cleaned up." Iron Bull said. His voice was low and teasing. Aoife flushed again and opened her mouth to say something else when he leaned down and kissed her like he owned her.  
  
She supposed that he  _ did _ own her, in a way, more than anyone had since Talagan.  
  
He pulled her closer and she felt the rough edge of his dragontooth pendant pressing into her chest and a smile twitched to her lips. When Aoife's fingers tightened against the skin of his shoulders, her nails digging in deep, Iron Bull let out an approving growl against her lips.  
  
He picked her up and carried her the rest of the way into her rooms, despite the brace on his ankle and the way the stairs weren't particularly kind to his sore joints. He stripped hers lowly, tasting every inch of her before pinning her to the wall and thoroughly ravaging her.  
  
When he'd taken his time and wrung out one orgasm from her, he carried her to the waiting tub and slipped her into it. Aoife felt all of her muscles unclench as she slipped into the warm water.  
  
"What would I do without you,  _ vhenan _ ?" Aoife mused. Behind her she heard Iron Bull laugh softly. She turned to glance at him and watched him undress with appreciative eyes.  
  
"You'd find someone else to take care of you, I'm sure," he began breezily, giving her a sly smile, "but no one would enjoy it as much as I do,  _ kadan _ ." Aoife grinned.  
  
"You're probably right about that." She teased. Iron Bull stepped closer and began rinsing the flour out of her hair. She groaned as she felt his fingers scrubbing against her scalp.  
  
"How are the younglings settling in? It's been a few months now." He asked her. She shrugged her shoulders.  
  
"As well as any of the other pilgrims, I guess. Maybe a little better, since they know me. Well, the littlest ones didn't, but they tend to follow Ilya's lead and right now I'm his literal favorite person." Aoife mumbled. Iron Bull hummed a soft reply.  
  
"And Tomas? How are he and his family?" He questioned, working soap through her long hair. She'd been thinking about cutting it shorter, but every time Iron Bull got his hands on it she changed her mind.  
  
"He's fine. Driving Ser Morris crazy because he keeps finishing up all his jobs quicker than Ser Morris expects. I think he's doing it out of spite for the poor man, but I can't figure out why. Mikhail's been studying with Dorian lately, when he has the time. Says the mages in the tower aren't giving him enough work to do, and Dorian's loving the attention. I think MIkhail's got a little bit of a crush, too." Aoife said, grinning up at Iron Bull. He rinsed the soap from her hair and laughed.  
  
"I'm sure he does. That flashy Vint loves attention of all kinds. He'll have to let him down easy, though. Don't think that kid can compete with Cullen for Dorian's affections." Iron Bull teased. "Stitches says Irenna's picking up healing faster than he expected." He said. Aoife nodded, sinking deeper into the warm water as Iron Bull began massaging at her shoulders.  
  
"She keeps asking me when I'm going to let her go on a real mission with the Chargers. Like  _ I'm _ the parent. I think Tomas would kill me if I got his daughter killed. Or worse, he'd frown at me a lot and then forgive me." She grumbled. Iron Bull hit a particularly painful knot near her neck and she hissed. "And Jonas is as happy as he could be, working with Dennett. I think Dennett actually likes him. He's been letting him handle the dracolisks all on his own. And the damnable beasts love him." Aoife grumbled. She'd wanted them to like her  _ so _ badly, but at the moment they all seemed to regard her with quiet disgust. Iron Bull laughed.  
  
"Of course they do. That boy's down there cooing at them from dawn until dusk. I'm pretty sure he's sleeping down there." Iron Bull said. Aoife hummed softly in response.  
  
Iron Bull spent the next hour scrubbing and massaging and teasing Aoife as she soaked in the tub. There was heat and slickness and an ache in her over and over, and before everything was through, Iron Bull had to wash her back more than once.  
  
When they were through, Aoife made her way to the bed on shaky legs. She collapsed down onto the bundle of blankets and grinned up at Iron Bull as he joined her.  
  
"That was a pretty good way to say you missed me,  _ kadan _ ." Iron Bull teased. Aoife snorted a laugh.  
  
"Just pretty good?" She asked. Iron Bull shook his head. He studied her for a long moment.  
  
"You know, in all this time, you've never said  _ katoh _ . You've never asked me to stop." Iron Bull said. It wasn't quite a question, but Aoife answered him anyway.  
  
"I haven't needed to. If you want me to say  _ katoh _ , you're going to have to try a little harder." She teased. Iron Bull shook his head again and studied her for a moment longer.  
  
"I'm a better man for having known you,  _ kadan _ . I just hope this has made things a little easier on your end. You're carrying a lot of weight on your shoulders." Iron Bull said. His eye was somber as he watched her. Aoife took a deep breath. The words she wanted to say were heavy on her tongue, and she'd been carrying them for longer than either of them could have known. Before she really had a chance to decide, they were spilling out of her.  
  
"Not  _ this _ . This is nice, sure, but it's  _ you _ . It's been you for a long time. You're what makes me want to make sure I come home. I love you, Bull." Aoife said, and her heart was in her throat. Iron Bull shook his head once more and laughed a little.  
  
"You getting soft on me,  _ kadan _ ?" He asked, teasing. Aoife felt her heart jump into her throat. Iron Bull didn't have to love her back, that could be her weight to carry. But she'd thought that he might, from the way he lingered and touched and held her. She was set to take the words back, or make them different somehow, when he reached out and gently turned her face back to his. His eye was serious as he leaned in close. "I love you too,  _ kadan _ ."  
  
Iron Bull laid her down and kissed her softly. Aoife felt something inside of her slip into place, like maybe that was the single missing piece of her puzzle.  
  
" _ Ar lath ma, vhenan _ ." Aoife whispered. If possible, Iron Bull held her tighter.  
  
Aoife wasn't complaining.  
  
The next day she was walking through the grounds, headed to pick something up from Tomas in the Quartermaster’s office, when she caught sight of Cassandra tucked up on a stool in the corner she usually trained in. Aoife carefully snuck up behind the other woman, peering over her shoulder to see what she was so interested in.  
  
“What are you reading?” Aoife asked brightly, startling Cassandra so bad she slipped off the stool and ended up on her knees in the dirt.  
  
“Aoife! I didn’t hear you coming!” Cassandra exclaimed, standing up quickly and tucking the book behind her back. Aoife laughed a little and reached out to brush some grass of Cassandra’s pants.  
  
“I noticed that, Cass.” She agreed. She pointed to the arm behind Cassandra’s back. “What are you reading?” Cassandra bit her lip and frowned lightly, but she drew the book out from behind her back.  
  
“It’s literature.” She gritted out, pausing as a faint flush worked over her cheeks. “ _ Smutty  _ literature.” She admitted finally. Aoife caught sight of the cover and a wide grin crossed her face.  
  
“I didn’t know you read  _ Swords & Shields,  _ Cass!” Aoife exclaimed, closing the space between them. Cassandra flushed deeper.  
  
“It’s frivolous.” She argued, shaking her head. “There are more important things for me to do.” She insisted. Aoife opened her mouth to argue when Dorian popped his head out of the window of the Quartermaster’s office.  
  
“That’s just her favorite,” he teased, smug grin on his face. Cassandra spun on her heel to face him.  
  
“Nobody asked you,  _ Tevinter _ .” She snapped, frowning. He waved a hand in dismissal.  
  
“Let me know when you’re ready for the big leagues. I’ve got a few books from back home that will  _ really _ hold your interest.” He teased, before tucking back into the Quartermaster’s office and shutting the window behind him. Cassandra, still flushing, scowled his direction. She glanced back to Aoife.  
  
“Whatever you do, don’t tell Varric!” She breathed, deeply flushed. Aoife cocked her head to the side and frowned.  
  
“Whyever not?” Aoife asked. “I think he might find it flattering.” She said. Cassandra shook her head.  
  
“I do not think you share the same opinion of me. I admit, we did not get off to the best start.” Cassandra said, frowning. Aoife took the book from Cassandra’s hands and flipped through it. It was obviously well-loved, and the pages were growing a little worn.  
  
“So deep down inside, my fierce Seeker is really a gentle romantic.” Aoife mused softly, giving Cassandra a soft smile.  
  
“Why must it be an accusation? Romance is not the sole province of dithering ladies in frilly dresses. It is  _ passion _ . It is being swept away by the pursuit of an ideal. What is not to like about that?” Cassandra defended. Aoife waved a hand in surrender.  
  
“No, Cass. Don’t get me wrong. I like being able to see this side of you.” She paused and bumped Cassandra’s shoulder with her own. “Maybe Varric would too.” She said softly. Cassandra shook her head again.  
  
“No.” She said firmly. Aoife shrugged.  
  
“You won’t know until you try.” She pointed out. Cassandra huffed softly.  
  
“I don’t  _ swoon _ , and I won’t start swooning over him.” She said, snatching the book back from Aoife. “Regardless of whatever you might think is there.” She gave Aoife a long look before she walked away, holding the book close to her. Aoife watched her walk away for a long moment before changing her mind.  
  
She turned on her heel and marched back into the Great Hall, searching Varric out. He was standing by the fire closest to the door, looking over a stack of letters while Cole sat nearby.  
  
“ _ Meddling, messing, making. _ ” Cole said when Aoife drew near. He met her eyes with a small smile. “Are you trying to help?” He asked softly. Aoife gave him a quick smile.  
  
“I hope so.” She told him. Varric glanced up from the letter he was reading.  
  
“Ah! What can I do for you, your Inquisitorialness?” Varric asked, setting his letters aside and tugging Aoife close for a quick hug. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as she returned the hug.  
  
“Cassandra is waiting for the next issue of  _ Swords & Shields _ .” She said softly. Varric instantly burst into laughter. He laughed for a long moment before he wiped his eyes and composed himself.  
  
“I must have heard that wrong, Twist. It sounded like you just said that Cassandra read my books.” He said brightly. Aoife gave him a narrow-eyed look.   
  
“Seems like your hearing is still good.” She said lightly. “She’s a pretty big fan, in fact.” Varric shook his head.  
  
“Are we talking about the same Cassandra? Tall, grumpy Seeker? Likes stabbing things? Likes stabbing things near me, specifically?” As he talked, something appeared to click in his mind. His eyes widened. “Wait, did you say the romance serial? She’ll be waiting for a while then. I haven’t finished it, and I wasn’t planning to. That book is easily the worst thing I have ever written. The last issue barely sold enough to pay for the ink.” Aoife shrugged.  
  
“Cass seems to be hooked on it.” She told him. Varric snorted another laugh.  
  
“And I honestly thought that a hole in the sky was the weirdest thing that could happen.” He shrugged and sighed. Aoife gave him a long look.  
  
“You know, you could be less mean about this. It’s perfectly normal for her to have things about her that you don’t know.” She pointed him out. Varric held up a hand in surrender.  
  
“I guess you’re not wrong. It just seems so strange.” He said, brow furrowed. Aoife hummed a soft sound.  
  
“As strange as the idea that she might have some kind of feelings for you?” She asked lightly. Varric frowned.  
  
“I thought we agreed that you were overtired and imagining things.” He said mildly. Aoife shrugged.  
  
“I think you agreed that all by yourself.” She pointed out. Varric huffed out a sigh.  
  
“So . . . you want me to finish writing the last issue of my worst serial . . . for Cassandra.” He asked, eyes narrowed at her. Aoife gave him a bright grin and shrugged lightly. “That’s such a terrible idea, Twist. I have to do it. On one condition: I get to be there when you give her the book.” Aoife’s grin brightened.  
  
“Deal. I’m sure it’ll mean that much more to her then!” She insisted. Varric studied her for a long moment, frowning, before he sighed lightly.  
  
“Oh, alright, Twist. You might be on to something.” He agreed. “I’ll get to work, then. You know, the fact that the book is terrible just makes it more worthwhile, somehow. I’ll come find you when the book is ready.” He promised.  
  
It was another week or so before he told her it was ready. They made their way down to the corner of the courtyard Cassandra had claimed as her own. She saw them coming and dropped the sword she’d been swinging at a training dummy.  
  
“What have you done now?” She asked warily, watching the two of them approach. Aoife shook her head.  
  
“Something great!” She said brightly. Varric gave her a very small smile.  
  
“I get it, Cassandra. Our track record isn’t exactly spotless together.” He said lightly. Cassandra frowned.   
  
“I’m not a child, Varric. Do not suggest I was without reason.” She argued. Aoife threw her hands out to stop the argument from starting.  
  
“Wait! Pause! No fighting! What’s done is done, we’ve all agreed!” She pointed out. Varric and Cassandra both looked a little sheepish. Varric cleared his throat.  
  
“A peace offering then, or something for a new start.” He pulled the book out from his coat. “The next chapter of  _ Swords & Shields _ . I hear you’re a fan.” He said softly, holding the book out toward her. Cassandra glanced to Aoife.  
  
“This is  _ your  _ doing.” She said sharply. Aoife nodded, grinning brightly.  
  
“Oh yes. Do you really think I’d miss the chance to give you this?” She asked lightly. Cassandra huffed. Varric shrugged lightly.  
  
“Well, if you’re not interested, you’re not interested. Still needs editing, anyhow.” He said, beginning to tuck the book back into his coat. Cassandra’s hand shot out to stop him  
  
“Wait!” She said quickly. Varric grinned up at her.  
  
“Right, you’re probably wondering what happens to the Knight-Captain after the last chapter.” He said slowly. Cassandra shook her head, face beginning to flush.  
  
“Nothing should happen to her! She was falsely accused!” She insisted. Varric’s grin grew wider.  
  
“Well, it turns out that the guardsman - “ He began, when Cassandra snatched the book out of his hands.  
  
“Don’t  _ tell _ me!” She said, holding the book close to her chest. Varric’s smile grew gentle.  
  
“You should thank your Inquisitor for this.” He said lightly, motioning to Aoife. Cassandra glanced between the both of them before her eyes settled on Varric.  
  
“Thank you for writing it. You did not have to, but I appreciate it that you did. Even knowing that it was for me.” She said softly. Her cheeks were faintly flushed. Varric gave her an appraising look before glancing at Aoife. Aoife gave him a meaningful smile and he sighed.  
  
“Anytime, Cassandra.” He said gently, before walking away. “Let me know what you think.” He called. Aoife watched him walk away with a bright smile on her face.  
  
“Thank you, Aoife.” Cassandra said, voice full of meaning. Aoife reached out and took one of Cassandra’s hands in hers.  
  
“Anytime.”


	42. forty-two - Firstfall 9:42 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are you feeling well, lethallan?"
> 
> "She's perfectly fine, I'm sure Cole has the matter in hand. You, on the other hand, are clearly suffering from delusions."

**Forty-Two. Firstfall 9:42 Dragon**

 

Aoife passed by the conversation by happenstance, but she stopped short when she heard who was talking.  
  
"There's someone at the gate, Commander. They're causing something of a commotion." Scout Jim's voice was strained. Cullen heaved a weary sigh and Aoife smiled fondly at the sound.  
  
Ever since Jim had caught the duty-driven Commander smooching her favorite Tevinter mage in a dark corner of the battlements nearly two weeks ago, Jim had seemingly done his best to thwart all further attempts at canoodling. (This was regardless of the fact that Dorian and Cullen had been sleeping together for at least two months.)  
  
" _ I'm rescuing him from undue temptation. _ " Aoife had overheard Jim saying the night before in the tavern. Cullen hadn't seemed as though he was particularly interested in being rescued, and from the heated stares that she politely ignored during their weekly group chess games, Jim hadn't rescued anyone from anything. Aoife leaned against the wall just outside the office door to listen in.  
  
"And what do they want?" Cullen asked. There was a long moment of silence, just long enough for Aoife to grow bored and ready to walk away and leave the men to it, before Jim finally answered.  
  
"They were requesting to speak with Inquisitor Lavellan, Commander." Intrigued, Aoife shifted closer to the open doorway. She'd been by the gate not five minutes beforehand, and couldn't say she'd noticed a rabble of any kind, much less any would-be rabble rousers. But, she reflected, she'd been speaking to Cole, which was a task that required full concentration on even the best of days.  
  
"Of course they were. Everyone comes to the gate expecting an immediate audience with the Inquisitor as soon as they ask. It's probably just this week's visiting diplomat. You sent them to Josephine, yes? She'll have them sorted." Cullen answered shortly, already moving on to the next paper on his pile.  
  
It had been a difficult few weeks for Cullen. His lyrium withdrawals had reached a breaking point, and his headaches and nightmares had been nearly unbearable for the poor man. Dorian had pulled Aoife aside earlier in the week to ask discreetly what she did to ease the worst of her nightmares when they came. Between that and managing the Inquisition's assorted forces and trying to slip around the nosy group of people living in Skyhold to find places to sneak kisses from Dorian, Cullen had certainly had better weeks.  
  
"Of course, Commander." Jim hesitated. "It's only that . . ." he began, drawing Cullen's full attention away from the report in his hand. Cullen stared at him, waiting for him to continue with a look of barely suppressed irritation. "It's only that, it seemed like they knew her. Inquisitor Lavellan, I mean." Jim sounded confused. Aoife glanced through the crack in the door to see Cullen's brow furrow.  
  
"And why do you think that?" He asked, rubbing at the furrow between his brows. Aoife made a mental note to stop by the kitchens and ask them to send him some tea for headaches along with some soup that would be easy on his stomach when she left her snooping. Jim flushed a faint red.  
  
"Well, they . . ." he began, but seemed to catch himself before continuing. Cullen made a noise at the back of his throat, a sort of impatient hum, and Jim startled. "Sorry, sir. They, well. They asked for ' _ that lousy thief Lavellan _ ' and said to ' _ tell her I have something that belongs to her, and if she's lost my knives, I'll tan her pretty little hide _ '. Sir." Jim and Cullen both looked distinctly uncomfortable. Aoife felt alarmed, and somehow, quietly hopeful.  
  
"The last one who loved you enough to insult you died on the docks, fire and screaming, your hands stretched out but you could never reach, died before your eyes and you couldn't save  _ them _ either, what good were tricks if you couldn't use them to save the people you loved?" Cole's voice was a soft whisper in her hear as he placed a hand on her shoulder. Aoife took a shaky breath and leaned away from the door.  
  
"Is it them?" She asked. Her voice was just as soft as his had been. Cole made a noncommittal sound in his throat.  
  
"Whoever it is, they love you very big.  _ Light bouncing off the water, whistling a tune off beat but she smiles, oh she smiles like dawn breaking, a braid in her hair with beads like green grass, how many times did I braid them in for her, she laughs like fire, laughs like Spring, I failed her but never again, never again _ ." Cole met her eyes and smiled. "May I walk with you?"  
  
Aoife wasn't sure she could make the trip herself, so she nodded and reached out to take Cole's arm. The short distance between Cullen's office and Josephine's seemed to stretch much further with every anxious step she took. When she stepped into the rotunda she found Dorian and Solas both hunched over Solas' desk. By the abrupt sounds that cut off when she walked in, she'd interrupted their latest argument over whatever book it was that they were both studying so carefully. Dorian's eyes narrowed worriedly when he caught sight of whatever was on her face, but he didn't approach.  
  
"Are you feeling well,  _ lethallan _ ?" Solas asked, concerned as he watched Cole lead her through the rotunda. She opened her mouth to answer him but was saved by Dorian's intervention.  
  
"She's perfectly fine, I'm sure Cole has the matter in hand. You, on the other hand, are clearly suffering from delusions if you think I'm going to let you win this argument simply because Aoife interrupted." Dorian waved her along, seemingly disinterested, but his watchful eyes followed her out of the room regardless.  
  
Aoife felt Varric's concerned stare as she crossed the Great Hall, but she didn't look at him either. She knew if she'd stopped to explain what might be happening to either of them, she'd have lost all her nerve. She stopped for just a moment outside of the heavy wooden door to Josephine's office. She could hear the low rumble of voices beyond the door and she rested her hand on the door handle.  
  
"I am right here." Cole said, pressing one hand between her shoulder blades. "I will not let them hurt you." Aoife took a deep, steadying breath.  
  
"There are so many ways to hurt, Cole." Aoife said, stalling. He pressed the hand between her shoulders gently.  
  
"Yes." He agreed. He didn't say anything else, but the weight of his hand gave her the strength to push the door open and step inside.  
  
Josephine saw her as the door swung open, of course, but Aoife wasn't focused on her.  
  
There were two figures standing in front of Josephine's desk.  
  
Neither one turned around to face her, and it gave her just one more moment to prepare herself. One person stood tall, and she saw just the edge of a thick honey-colored braid slipping out from the edge of a hood. They appeared to be trying very hard to stand still. The other person was slender and completely bald, leaning against one of Josephine's chairs and dressed in an expensive-looking silk and leather getup. Aoife felt her breath catch in her throat.  
  
"I wondered how long it would take you to get here." When they spoke, their voice was exactly as Aoife remembered it. She took a single moment to be thankful that, despite the years and miles between the burning docks in Antiva and this moment in Josephine's office, she'd been able to hold on to that one thing. "I must say, it took longer than I'd expected. I would have thought that word would travel faster. I was certain insulting you loudly at the gate would do the trick."  
  
"Valen." Aoife breathed, so much relief in her voice that it visibly shocked Josephine.  
  
"You know these people, Inquisitor?" Josephine asked politely, looking between them. Aoife felt herself nodding before Josephine had even finished speaking.  
  
Valen turned to face her then, and the light from the fire made their grey eyes sparkle silver. They grinned, quick and sharp, but so welcoming that Aoife felt tears catch at the corners of her eyes.  
  
"Hello, little kit. You're all grown up." Aoife had launched herself across the room and into Valen's arms before they'd even finished speaking. One of their hands came up to cradle Aoife's head where she had tucked it against their shoulder. They wrapped their other arm around her waist and held her tight before leaning to speak in her ear. "Sorry, kit. I'm afraid I was gone long enough for you to miss me. I promise, I'll tell you the story one day soon and you'll just laugh and laugh."  
  
Valen held her out at arms length then, gently wiping away the stray tears that trickled from her eyes. "Now, don't you want to see what I've brought you? You've always been so impatient, kit. I would have thought you'd have grown out of that by now, seeing as you lead something as big and prestigious as an Inquisition." Aoife laughed and wiped her face.  
  
"If anything, that gave me more reasons to be impatient. It's hard to say no to the person who sewed up the sky." Aoife said with a shrug. Valen smiled a very soft smile before motioning to the figure that stood just to Aoife's right. Aoife followed Valen's movement, and when she caught full sight of the person standing beside them, her heart stopped completely in her chest.  
  
The man beside Valen was tall, and as he pushed his hood back, she realized he was also heartbreakingly elvhen. His eyes were a shade darker than the honey color of his hair, and a bright green  _ vallaslin _ roped across his face in a twisting tribute to Ghilan'nain. He was older; there were lines around his eyes that she hadn't known before, and a jagged scar tugged the left corner of his mouth down before disappearing beneath the collar of his tunic. He was watching Aoife with something that looked like suspicion and disbelief, and the tiniest amount of hope. When he opened his mouth to speak, Aoife threw her hands out in front of her.  
  
"Deshanna said you died. She burned your body on the pyre before I could return, and I mourned you for years. I don't know who you are, or why you're wearing that face, but you take it off right this moment. How  _ dare _ you pretend to be him?" Aoife's voice was choked as she struggled to find the words. She turned a wounded look on Valen. "How dare you bring this . . . this  _ imposter  _ here like I would be happy to see them? You know  _ exactly _ what it cost me when he died." Valen held her steady, and they both ignored Josephine's shocked gasp while she tried to steady her breathing. The other man cleared his throat softly before he spoke.  
  
"When you left that morning," he started, drawing Aoife's attention, "you hummed a song. You'd learned it from Tomas, who lived in the village nearby with his children. He was always kind to you. Your fingers were cold when you touched my shoulder. You asked if I wanted rabbit for dinner. You kissed the tip of my left ear, and then you were gone." He said slowly. His voice was the same warm rumble she remembered, low and gentle, but something was . . .  off about it. She watched his mouth twitch as he finished speaking. The quiet that fell in the room after he was done was heavy enough that she had to sit down.  
  
"How could you _ possibly _ know that?" She asked, staring up at him.  
  
" _ He can't be him, he can't be. I died with him years ago and this body has just been a ghost waiting to lie down, it's a lie, it's a lie, it's a lie, why would you do this Valen, didn't you love me enough, haven't I ached enough for this lifetime? _ " Cole stopped suddenly, crouching beside Aoife and twisting around to meet her eyes. "It's . . . strange. He remembers you, but he doesn't. Your face is in all his memories but he doesn't know what it means. You should listen to them. They aren't trying to hurt you." Cole said. Valen had been silent through the whole ordeal so far, but when Cole finished speaking, they began.  
  
"After we parted in Antiva," they started, squeezing her shoulder, "and I  _ promise _ I will tell you everything, I made my way to Tevinter as I had said I would. I stumbled across him after I'd been there for a year or so. I still don't know exactly what happened to him, but he's been  _ tampered _ with, somehow. When I met him, he was almost Tranquil. Then just over a year ago, he woke up shouting your name. After I learned of your appointment as Inquisitor, I tied up a few loose ends and brought him with me. Magic has taken from him what time and distance could not take from you, but I would not have brought him if I did not believe that he is who he says he is. I promise you kit, I would have never fed that ache." Valen's voice was a comforting murmur while Aoife sucked air into her lungs.  
  
She dropped her gaze to the dark grain of the wooden desk before her as Josephine sank heavily into the chair behind it. She heard movement near her, and watched as the man crouched down in front of her. He didn't reach out to touch her, but he was close enough that she could reach out and brush her fingers through the end of the heavy braid swinging over his shoulder if she wanted to.  
  
"It's . . . fuzzy, a lot of it. There are few things I remember, that day is the clearest of them all. My magic appeared unexpectedly, and Deshanna agreed it would be best to send me to the nearest clan. I remember arguing, I wanted to wait for you, but the clan was unkind. I remember that they were always unkind about you. I don't remember what caused it, but we argued, I lost my temper. I remember fire and screaming. Someone, an elder, maybe, asked if I really wanted to endanger someone I said I loved. And of course I didn't. Aoife, I," he paused then, searching Aoife's face desperately. His mouth had settled into a heavy frown. "I didn't know they had lied to you. I am sorry for that. I don't remember what happened after. Much of what came next was nothing, not until I met Valen in Tevinter. I didn't know you were aching, Aoife. I swear it. On the promise I made the night you got these." He reached out a single finger, gently tracing the arching line of  _ vallaslin _ on her right cheek. Aoife searched his face.  
  
"Talagan?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Talagan nodded, just slightly, and Aoife took a deep, shaky breath. "Welcome to the Inquisition, I guess."  
  
Aoife would remember the sound of Valen's laughter and the slow smile that stretched across Talagan's face, the way they both warmed her even as she struggled to put her world back to rights, long into the night that followed.


	43. forty-three - Firstfall 9:42 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I missed you. I told myself I wouldn't. And then I did anyway."
> 
> "I know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that doesn't help."

**Forty-Three. Firstfall 9:42 Dragon**

 

There was a gap in Talagan's memory that was big enough and complete enough to alarm each of the mages in her Inner Circle. He also seemed to be . . . muted, somehow. Tranquil, but not. Like a cat that had been declawed, but was still taking swipes at a mouse.  
  
He remembered the clan, and the night he left. But much of his life with Aoife was gone. He didn't know who he'd been with or what he'd been doing for the majority of his life. Memories had started returning to him over a year beforehand, like Valen had said, but none of them included her. He remembered Yara, and disliking her for some reason. He remembered Deshanna and the gamekeeper. He even remembered Tomas, though as many of the memories involved Aoife, he didn't remember him as clearly as he did the others.  
  
Solas and Dorian and Vivienne all agreed - for once - that it was some kind of magic that had gone awry. But what could have the power to so selectively remove someone from a person's memory? And why did he seem Tranquil, despite his attachment to the Fade still being complete?  
  
The three of them had spread out  across the rotunda - all of them clustered around Solas' desk while they murmured and frowned a lot. Aoife had taken to mostly avoiding the room, as whenever she entered it they all stared at her silently before humming and making notes.  
  
Valen found her a day or two later, sprawled in a chair on the battlements. The heavy chair had clearly been dragged from one of the offices and tucked into the secluded corner. Aoife was sprawled nearly upside down in it, reading through a stack of letters when Valen came around the corner.  
  
"Do you find them easier to read that way, kit?" Valen asked, tilting their head as they squatted down beside her. Aoife shot them a look over the edge of the letter and frowned.  
  
"They're letters from the families of soldiers that have died, Valen." Aoife said softly. "I'm not sure anything could make them easier to read." Aoife twisted around in the chair to sit normally. She placed the letter gently back on the pile she had stacked beneath a stone by the leg of the chair.  
  
"You really did it, didn't you? You went and grew up on me, kit." Valen stated. Aoife shrugged.  
  
"I don't know about that." She argued. She motioned to the pile. "Josephine's already read through them and sent all the official responses. But all of these people came because they believed in what the Inquisition was doing." She paused and frowned before meeting Valen's eyes again. "What  _ I  _ was doing. So I read all of them. I don't ever want to forget the people who sacrificed everything." Valen smiled a soft smile at her and took her hand.  
  
"Thank you for letting me stay, kit." Valen said. They squeezed Aoife's hand gently. Aoife shrugged.  
  
"You let me stay, once." She pointed out. Valen nodded.  
  
"That I did." They were quiet for a moment before they frowned. "Kit, I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry I didn't come find you sooner." They said. Aoife shrugged again, but Valen saw the tight set to Aoife's shoulders. They motioned for Aoife to make room in the oversized chair and squeezed in beside her. Aoife was stiff for a long moment before she relaxed against their side.  
  
"I missed you." Aoife whispered. "I told myself I wouldn't. And then I did anyway." Valen slipped an arm around her and squeezed.  
  
"I know. I'm sorry." They said, kissing her forehead. "I'm sorry that doesn't help." They rested their cheek against the top of Aoife's head. She took a shaky breath.  
  
"How did you find him?" She asked. Valen sighed.  
  
"Well, I told you I was headed to Tevinter, yes?" Valen asked. Aoife nodded. "The explosion at the docks wasn't an accident. I wasn't  _ sure _ anything was going to happen, you understand, but I was aware it might. I was headed to Tevinter to investigate a group that you have since come to know as the Venatori. Some of my contacts sent me an urgent message, telling me about some strange disappearances and murmurs of dangerous change. I had intended to make my way there quietly, and slip into the ranks of the Magisterium while I investigated the rumors I'd been hearing, but apparently I stepped on all the wrong toes." They smiled tightly at Aoife. Aoife gave them a small smile in return.  
  
"So someone  _ was _ trying to kill you back in Antiva?" Aoife asked. Valen nodded.  
  
"They were rather sloppy about it, weren't they?" Valen mused. They shrugged. "But, I survived the chaos at the docks and made my way to Tevinter as planned. I spent some time there and uncovered a few things, all of which I've passed on to your Lady Nightingale. What  _ wasn't _ planned was stumbling across a rogue Dalish mage, half-alive and half-Tranquil and mostly-amnesiac, crawling his way out of Tevinter. I felt sorely for him and took him with me, perhaps because I had missed you while I was gone, and I was certain you'd died at the docks, too." Valen said, tugging at the end of Aoife's braids. "My contacts couldn't find you in Antiva, and no one had seen you slip away. I guess I did manage to teach you something after all." Their grin was proud. Aoife frowned a little.  
  
"But what was he  _ doing _ there?" She mumbled. Valen sighed.  
  
"I don't know, kit. I don't think he knows. Maybe he'd been taken hostage. Maybe he'd been sold as a slave. When I found him, he had some very ugly wounds. Not just that one marring his pretty face." Valen frowned. "It's very likely that he was sold as a slave, and due to some trauma he has blocked out the experience. Or maybe the head injury he had knocked out whatever had happened to him, along with a good portion of who he'd been before." Valen explained. Aoife frowned again.  
  
"Oh for fuck's sake," she sighed, "none of this makes any kind of fucking sense. Nothing has made sense for ages, Valen." Aoife confessed. Valen huffed out a soft laugh and ruffled her hair.  
  
"That's what happens when you get involved with humans and their religions, kit." Valen teased. Aoife narrowed her eyes at them.  
  
"I didn't exactly have a choice, Valen." Aoife grumbled. Valen's grin grew softer. They glanced out across the battlements. From where Aoife sat, she was well hidden from anyone looking up from the courtyard, but she was still able to see a good portion of the grounds. Valen watched the people hustling about for a few quiet minutes before they shrugged again.  
  
"Oh, I don't know, kit. Seems to me you've done a pretty good job here." They said. Aoife rolled her eyes.  
  
"Sure." She grumbled. She sat with Valen for another long minute before shoving them out of the chair. "Alright, that's enough cuddling. I'm glad you're alive, but don't you have a strapping, well-built young scout to bother? Perhaps a freckled, busty barmaid? I'm fairly certain the kitchen maids are looking to be entertained now that The Iron Bull is unavailable." Aoife said dryly. Valen dusted their outfit off and turned to watch Aoife sprawl back across the chair with a growing grin.  
  
"About that," they began, their voice full of humor. Aoife snatched up the small rock she'd been using to hold down the letters and tossed it at them, which they dodged easily enough.  
  
"Go away." Aoife said. Valen laughed brightly.  
  
"When do I get to meet the infamous Iron Bull?" Valen asked. Aoife huffed.  
  
"Never. Go away. I have letters to read." Aoife said, ignoring Valen's growing smile. They held their hands up in surrender and stepped away.  
  
"As you say, kit. I think I'll go find one of those scouts you mentioned. Or a barmaid. Or both, the day's still young." They said softly. Aoife watched Valen walk away for a moment before she called out.  
  
"Valen?" Aoife called. Valen stopped walking and glanced over their shoulder at her. "I'm glad you're here." She admitted. Valen gave her another bright grin.  
  
"Me too, kit." They waved at her before heading down the nearby stairs and leaving her to her letters. Aoife spent the rest of the afternoon tucked up on the battlements before she finally made her way down for dinner. She knew if she didn't, Varric would send Cassandra after her.  
  
When she slipped into her usual seat at the table, she found Talagan seated across from her. He gave her a tentative smile that she returned with one of her own.  
  
"So, Twist," Varric began from her left. She shot him a warning look that he ignored. "I hear you know our friend here." He asked pointedly. Aoife spent a moment weighing the consequences of answering.  
  
"Yes, Varric. This is Talagan, a fact which I am certain you are aware of." She answered. She reached for her much and took a sip of the sweet smelling cider inside. Varric made a soft noise in the back of his throat.  
  
"It's nice to meet you, Talagan." He said. Aoife met Varric's eyes for a moment. He gave her a reassuring grin. "I hope you find what you're looking for here." He said. Aoife narrowed her eyes at her friend.  
  
"I'm sure I will, Varric. Thank you." Talagan said, unaware or uncaring of the look Aoife was sending the other man. Aoife took a deep drink of her cider and caught Iron Bull's stare as she set her mug down. He was seated across the way, between an exhausted looking Krem and an overly excited combination of Irenna, Dalish, and Skinner. His face was relatively neutral, but she knew what it looked like when he was worrying over her. She sent him a small smile that he returned.  
  
_ Later _ , she thought,  _ I'll explain it to him later. _ She blew him a small kiss and his grin widened before he turned his attention back to the rowdy group around him. Aoife turned her attention back to her plate, but not before she caught Talagan's stare.  
  
"How are you settling in?" She asked him. He shrugged.  
  
"As well as I could be, I guess." He hedged. Aoife waited, and he leaned across the table toward her. She leaned forward to meet him in the middle. "Is it always this  _ loud _ here?" He asked, motioning to the ruckus happening around him. Aoife was caught off guard for a short moment before she laughed. He had surprised the laugh out of her, so it was louder than it might have been otherwise, echoing around the already loud room. It drew the attention of several people who'd been trying to watch her surreptitiously; Dorian, seated with Cullen down to Aoife's right; Cassandra and Vivienne, each near a separate end of the table; and Iron Bull, whose face split into a bright grin when he heard Aoife laugh.  
  
"Yes, I'm afraid it's always this loud. Sometimes, it's louder." She answered. Talagan nodded and glanced down at his plate. He met her bright grin again and a soft smile stretched across his face.  
  
"I'll keep that in mind." He told her. Aoife smiled again.  
  
She made it through the rest of dinner buffeted by the steady stream of conversation that Varric supplied. She thought that it shouldn't have ached the way it did when Talagan kept gently smiling at her from across the table. Or when he asked her soft questions about what she'd been doing with herself, or her own time spent with Valen. It definitely shouldn't have hurt as bad as it did when, after dinner and unprompted, he made her a cup of tea just the way she'd always liked and bid her goodnight with an incredibly soft smile.  
  
As she made her way upstairs she thought about all of it. Talagan had been taken from her so completely years ago, and she'd thought she'd moved on just fine. She thought about the dragon tooth pendant that hung proudly around Iron Bull's neck, on display for everyone to see. He had requisitioned a second one that she could wear, a much smaller pendant wrapped in delicate Bloodstone and set into a long enough chain to tuck into her clothes when she was out away from Skyhold. He'd been so nervous when he'd asked her about it, and when she'd told him it sounded wonderful he'd grinned so widely it had made her own face hurt.  
  
When she found him at the top of her stairs, she shouldn't have been so surprised.  
  
"Let me hold you,  _ kadan _ ." Iron Bull said quietly. Aoife only nodded.  
  
He took her inside and up the rest of her stairs and undressed her slowly. He was gentle in a way she'd never needed him to be before, all lingering kisses and gentle touches over every inch of her skin.  
  
"I understand,  _ kadan _ ." He told her, holding her like she might break. Aoife wasn't sure she wouldn't. "He was first in your heart, and a love like that isn't something that just disappears overnight. Especially not when it walks right back into your life after being thought dead for years." Aoife snorted, but she felt tears welling in the corners of her eyes.  
  
"Bull, that's . . ." she began, curling onto her side against him to hide her face, "that's so much kinder than I deserve." She whispered. Iron Bull shrugged.  
  
"I think it's exactly as kind as you deserve,  _ kadan _ ." He argued. Aoife sniffled.  
  
"I don't know what to do,  _ vhenan _ ." Aoife confessed. Iron Bull tugged her up to kiss her temple softly. He smiled down at her.  
  
"If you need to keep time on me  _ kadan _ , I can wait. You're worth waiting for, and I'm not so selfish that I'd demand an answer from you right now." Iron Bull said. Aoife studied him for a long moment.  
  
"And if I picked him?" She asked breathlessly. She didn't know what she wanted, but she couldn't stop herself from asking. Iron Bull studied her for a long moment. She felt like holding her breath.  
  
"I won't lie to you  _ kadan _ ," Iron Bull began, voice low and face serious, "nothing could be worse for me than the thought of a future without you. But I don't want you to choose me just because you think I can't live without you." He tucked a loose coil of hair behind her ear and gave her a soft kiss. "I want you to choose me because you want me. And for that, I'm willing to wait."  
  
Aoife studied his face for a long minute before she tucked her head back against his shoulder.  
  
"I always thought that burying him would be the hardest thing I ever had to do." She admitted softly. "You were absolutely going to outlive me, or we'd go out together, fighting side by side, so I would never have to bury you." Aoife continued. Iron Bull wrapped an arm around her and snorted.  
  
"That so?" He asked fondly. Aoife nodded against his shoulder. He hummed softly in his throat before they both fell silent. Aoife lay there against him, awake, for a long time.  
  
"Bull?" She asked softly, some time later. Iron Bull hummed a soft response. "Don't let go?" She asked. Iron Bull pressed a soft kiss against her temple.  
  
"Never." He promised.  
  
When Aoife finally fell asleep, her sleep was fitful at best, and when she woke the next morning she felt raw. Iron Bull kissed her softly and washed her face for her and then went about getting ready for the day. She sat at the large desk in her tower and spent a good long time staring blankly out the open balcony doors.  
  
She ached so fiercely for them both - the man she'd  _ loved _ and lost and then gotten back, and the man who touched her like she was so much fire without asking for any screaming - that she thought she might just blow away with the feeling of it.


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You aren't going to lose me."
> 
> "Aren't I? Between Corypheus and the red Templars and the Venatori and this fucking mark on your hand, I've almost lost you already."

**Forty-Four. Wintermarch 9:43 Dragon**

 

The rest of her Inner Circle had, of course, been exceedingly kind about Valen and Talagan. All of them knew something about her attachment to both of them, although she hadn't told each of them how deeply it went. They'd all shaken hands with them and done their best not to judge Valen too harshly for leaving her so long without any news.  
  
After they'd been in Skyhold for a week, Dorian snagged Aoife by the elbow and dragged her down to her small library.  
  
"Dorian? Is something the matter?" She asked, following along behind him. He scoffed dramatically.  
  
" _ Is something the matter? _ She asks. Of course something's the matter!" He exclaimed. He sat her down in her chair behind the desk in the room and whirled around with a flourish. "You never told me you had  _ another _ well-dressed best friend." He accused. His voice was dramatic, but Aoife could see real concern in his face.  
  
"I think if you asked Valen they would tell you that we  _ aren't _ best friends." Aoife pointed out. Dorian scoffed lightly.  
  
"I would say the same if asked about you, but you know that both of us would be lying." He said shortly. Aoife stood up from the desk and walked around to take his hands in hers.  
  
"Dorian, are you worried that I won't be your friend anymore now that Valen's back?" She asked softly. He didn't meet her eyes. "You  _ aren't _ just a replacement for them." Aoife insisted. Dorian huffed out a short sigh.  
  
"Well, naturally." He said, for lack of anything else to say. Aoife squeezed his hands gently to draw his attention.  
  
"You're similar, sure. You're both flashy and dramatic, and you love the attention it gets you. You both like to pretend you don't care about things that really matter to you." She began, smiling softly. "You're also both very afraid you won't be able to protect the people that really matter to you. So you nag at us to take care of ourselves and tell yourself that you don't care either way." Dorian scoffed again.  
  
"I do  _ not _ nag." He argued. Aoife grinned.  
  
"Oh? So that _wasn't_ you I heard nagging Cullen to eat more often and sleep when his body is tired? You weren't nagging me just yesterday afternoon about the fact that I'd jumped over the railing in the rotunda instead of walking down the stairs?" She asked brightly. Dorian's eyes flashed.  
  
"Aoife, you'll break an ankle the way you keep flying over the railing. The stairs are there for perfectly good reasons, and you get down just as quickly by taking them. There's really no reason -" He began, building up some steam, before he stopped himself short. "I see your point."   
  
"Dorian, you aren't my friend because you remind me of Valen." She promised, holding his stare. He shifted uncomfortably before giving her hands a little squeeze.  
  
"I've just . . . ." he started. He looked momentarily lost. "I've lost much that I care for." He admitted softly. Aoife reached out and wrapped him in a tight hug.  
  
"Dorian, you aren't going to lose me." She promised. He wrapped his arms around her and breathed out a shaky sigh.  
  
"Aren't I? Between Corypheus and the red Templars and the Venatori and this fucking  _ mark _ on your hand, I've almost lost you already." He told her, his face buried in her hair. "And now you have your old favorites back." It seemed like there was more he wanted to say, but he fell silent. Aoife gave him another gentle squeeze.  
  
"I have survived everything that has happened up to this point, largely because I have some really awesome people around me. And you won't stop being important to me just because Valen and Talagan have returned." She pointed out softly. "I'm not going to abandon you, or trade you in because you've done your part. You're my best friend, Dorian. There is nothing I would not do for you." Dorian hugged her for another long minute, and she ignored the suspiciously-teary sniffle he gave her in response. When he finally let go of her, his eyes were damp, but bright.  
  
"Well," he sighed brightly, "at least I'm the more handsome of the two of us." He said breezily. Aoife laughed.  
  
"Is that because you're the one with hair?" She asked delicately. Dorian laughed.   
  
"Of course! Never underestimate the power of a good mustache." He told her, taking her arm and leading her back up into the Great Hall. Aoife laughed again.  
  
"I wasn't aware a good mustache had so much power. I'll have to think about growing one myself." She teased. Dorian squeezed her arm, and when they reached the doors to the Great Hall, he pressed a soft kiss against her forehead.  
  
"You do that." He said fondly. He stepped away from her with a soft smile. "Now, off you go. I'm sure you have very important things to be doing." He said airily as he waved her away. Aoife snuck in another tight hug before skipping away.  
  
"See you at dinner!" She called brightly. His answering smile was bright.  
  
When she joined Varric that night for their weekly story and cuddles - and still, no one had worked up the courage to ask exactly what it was they got up to on the nights she spent locked in Varric's room, but she and Varric were certainly enjoying listening to all the gossip - he held her very close and told her a sad story about a man who loved a woman he could never have. She tried very pointedly not to make a face. The less she thought about Bianca, the better it was for all of them, she was sure.  
  
"He waited for her at the docks until well after the sun had set, but he knew she wasn't coming." He said, and Aoife noticed the way his voice caught on the words. She hummed in her throat.  
  
"Why would she leave him there? I thought she loved him." She pointed out. Varric nodded.  
  
"So did he." He said simply. Aoife studied his face for a long moment.  
  
"I wonder if he's still waiting." She whispered. Varric shrugged.  
  
"Maybe he is." He mused softly. "You see, Twist, I'm not sure if it's worse to have something and then lose it, or never have it in the first place." He said, ruffling her hair. Aoife frowned against his shoulder.  
  
"I should think it's worse to have something and lose it. If you never had it in the first place, you can't ache when it's gone. It's the having of something that makes the loss cut deeper. But that doesn't mean it's not worth it to have it, either." She said, twisting her head up to catch his eyes. Varric grinned down at her in a way that didn't seem like grinning at all.  
  
"I guess that means getting it back should help then, doesn't it? Something like getting the cure from the hair of the dog that bit you?" He said, a bit more pointedly than he usually did. Aoife rolled her eyes.  
  
"I guess we'll have to see, won't we?" She agreed. They were quiet for a moment before Aoife spoke again. "Maybe he got on a boat." She said. Varric cleared his throat.  
  
"Hmm?" He asked. Aoife shifted against him.  
  
"The man at the docks. Maybe he waited for a long time, years and years maybe, but then maybe he got on a boat. Maybe he went somewhere better." She met his eyes, and they were dark with something very heavy. Aoife gave him a small smile. "Maybe he met  _ someone _ better. Someone strong and loyal and grumpy, who smiles like the sunrise and doesn't really know how to take a joke and reads smutty literature. Someone scared, too."   
  
He didn't answer her, but he hugged her tightly. That was answer enough, in a away.  
  
Time passed slowly after that. Valen and Talagan integrated into their little group easily enough. Leliana snatched Valen up instantly, something Aoife had learned two days  _ after _ Valen had left again on a secret-snatching errand for her spymaster. The note had been slipped into the pocket of her favorite coat and she'd sighed for a full minute when she found it.  
  
__ Off catching ravens, kit. New songs to teach the nightingale. Your knives could use some sharpening. - V.  
  
Aoife had crumpled it up and tossed it into the fireplace before grumpily stomping down to the armory and spending a full afternoon sharpening and cleaning every knife she owned.  
  
Talagan had been included in things a little more as people grew more used to him being around Skyhold. More than once she'd seen him discussing something with Solas, or drinking tea with Josephine. It was nice to see him settling in, even if the sight of him still ate her up with all kinds of confusion.  
  
They'd just finished decorating for the First Day celebrations when Dorian stomped into the Great Hall.  
  
"There you are!" He shouted, making a beeline for Aoife. Aoife glanced up at him sharply, as did several other people in the Great Hall.  
  
"Yes, here I am. Where I've been all day. You said hello to me just this morning. Did you need something?" She asked. Dorian shook his head impatiently before hooking his hand in the curve of her elbow and physically dragging her from the Great Hall. She protested loudly - there was a lot still to do - before he had her stumbling down the side stairs and into the hidden library.   
  
Despite them all living in Skyhold for just over a year now, no one else had tried to claim the little room. A part of her suspected that was entirely thanks to the fact that she kept the kitchens stocked with fresh, exciting ingredients and they were willing to protect her space for her. Few people were eager to cross the kitchen staff. Another, larger part of her was just glad it remained her tiny refuge.  
  
She'd been spending increasing amounts of time locked away in it, poring over each and every text about magical illness and memory loss that she could find, despite knowing so little about the actual function of any of the spells involved. They'd all been pitching in to help Dorian and Solas and Vivienne find anything that might help answer questions about Talagan's situation.  
  
"Dorian, you're going to rip my arm out, and the healers will be very cross with me if I go to them with another stupid injury." She warned, allowing him to drag her into the small room. Dorian huffed out a sigh and forced her into the chair behind the desk.  
  
"Don't be so dramatic, Aoife. That's my job, after all, and I do it so much better." He answered. He then slid a book across the surface of the desk toward her.  
  
It was barely recognizable as a book, in her opinion. It was missing both covers and held together by what appeared to be a dubious amount of twine and burlap. She eyed Dorian and the book suspiciously. He sighed in exasperation, but his eyes were bright when he spoke again.  
  
"I may be able to help your friend. With this." He flipped through a few pages, pointing victoriously to a paragraph of densely-packed writing. "The theory is similar to what Alexius and I were working on when we were beginning to think about time magic. The fact that it's cropped up again in Tevinter isn't so surprising, but the timing makes me wonder if Alexius shared something before we were able to put a stop to the nonsense in Redcliffe."  
  
Aoife hunched over the book, squinting at the tiny writing.  
  
"Is that . . . ancient Tevene? Dorian, you know I can't read this.  _ You _ can't even read this." She said, but she stared at it regardless.  
  
"Doesn't matter, all the diagrams check out. Anyway, here, this is the important bit." Dorian began, rattling off rapid-fire spell theory. Aoife listened attentively and waited for him to pause for breath, which took longer than she'd expected.  
  
"What exactly does all this mean? What have you figured out?" She asked. Dorian gave her an indulgent smile.  
  
"Well you know that his memory is strange. The more he thinks about it, the more he remembers little bits about his life. But everything to do with you is still a strange grey area that he can't see. And there's the fact that he's almost Tranquil in a way. We've been discussing it with Cassandra, and we think we've got it pinned. It  _ is _ magic gone wrong. We think someone attempted to make him Tranquil, maybe the Templars you mentioned had been in the town nearby. Maybe they got into a fight, and to avoid fighting a full clan of angry Dalish, they left behind another beaten mage. Maybe something else entirely. The real question was his memory." His eyes were fairly glowing in the dim light of the small room. "I theorized, and this book agrees, that when Alexius tried to wipe you out of time, it broke his Tranquility, somehow. Just enough that he would start fighting back. Valen said that he woke up screaming your name one night. The timeline fits with our trip to that red lyrium future in Redcliffe. Something about it was enough to wake him up." Aoife frowned.  
  
"How is any of that even possible?" She asked quietly. Dorian shrugged.  
  
"No one knows. It's what makes him so fascinating. The point is, we think that we can fix it." He told her. Aoife glanced back down at the book.  
  
"So, when can we do this?" She asked. She was breathless and anxious, but she wouldn't get her hopes up over something they weren't able to do. Dorian shrugged as another smile crossed his handsome face.  
  
"As soon as Solas and Cassandra are ready. I've done all the hard work already in gathering the materials. And it's not a terribly difficult spell to cast, especially considering my previous work with Alexius. The ritual itself involves two casters familiar with bending the Fade in a particular way that only necromancers and obsessives like your Fade expert do with any regularity. And we need Cassandra to make sure the Tranquility is taken care of." Aoife took Dorian's hand in hers and squeezed.  
  
"And Talagan?" She asked. Dorian shrugged again.  
  
“It shouldn't cause him any undue physical ailment. Perhaps a headache, or sensitivity to light for a few days. He's been warned, and he agreed to it." He paused for a moment, searching her face. "I'd like to promise you that this will fix everything, but I can't. For as much as we think we know, we still aren't certain exactly what caused his memory loss, or why he ended up in Tevinter, or what happened to him while he was there. This spell isn't a spell for memory loss so much as it is to a restoration spell. Intended to build something new in the spaces left behind. Solas and I will essentially be rebuilding his memories of you from other memories left behind in the Fade. I don't know if he'll regain it all in a moment, if it will take more time, or if he'll be able to remember you at all. The spell is just theory, and barely that. There's nothing recorded anywhere about it being successfully performed on a person. But it's the closest I can find to a fix, and combined with Cassandra's knowledge of Tranquility and Solas' knowledge of the Fade, I think the theory is sound. I wouldn't have brought it to your attention if I didn't think it was worth doing." Dorian's voice was earnest as he shifted her grip and squeezed her hands back.  
  
"Okay. Okay." Aoife agreed.  
  
They cleared a space in the undercroft for the ritual the next day. The only non-essential people allowed inside were Aoife and Iron Bull. Dagna had been there for hours, inscribing complicated runes and markings into the wide circles Solas had drawn on the floor. Harritt had grumbled something fierce when they'd begun writing all over the floors, but he'd left with good enough grace that Aoife felt convinced he wasn't mad at her, only inconvenienced by their moving of his anvil.  
  
She heard Varric speaking just outside the door behind her, and his was a comforting presence at her back. She stood against the door, hand in hand with Iron Bull, as Solas and Dorian began casting. Cassandra called some sort of light forth that hurt Aoife's eyes, and Dagna stood just to the side of them all, ready with spell dampeners if they were needed. Talagan waited patiently in the center of the wide circle with his eyes closed and shoulders relaxed.  
  
It felt like it took hours, but was probably around only 20 minutes of quiet casting and focused energy. At first, it seemed like nothing was happening. After a few long minutes though, Aoife became aware of a sharpness around her, as if everything was coming into clearer focus the longer she stood there. Then the light in Cassandra's hands grew brighter and brighter, until it seemed as if the sun had dropped into the undercroft. When the brightness was at a level Aoife could no longer look at, it disappeared in a flash so quick it left her momentarily blinded.  
  
When her vision cleared, Talagan was standing in front of her. He looked her over slowly, with eyes that bore the weight of over a decade away from her. He seemed almost sad.  
  
"Did it work?" Dorian called, not moving from his space. Cassandra was tensed and anxious as well. Aoife caught sight of Dorian and Solas' worried looks just over Talagan's shoulders.  
  
"It's a long way to go for rabbit,  __ ma vhenan ." Talagan said softly. Aoife felt Iron Bull's hand twitch in hers as her knees nearly buckled.  
  
"It worked." She called, leaning weakly against Iron Bull's side. She met Talagan's eyes again, smiling with relief. "It worked."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It should be said that I think friendships are so incredibly important, and Aoife loves her friends a lot.


	45. forty-five - Wintermarch 9:43 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She said you were brave."
> 
> "And why did she think that?"
> 
> "She said you loved hahren enough to be stupid."

**Forty-Five. Wintermarch 9:43 Dragon**

 

That night, Aoife sat down with Talagan and told him about the clan.  
  
“I didn’t tell you sooner because I wasn’t sure how you would react.” Aoife admitted softly. Talagan gave her a slight smile.  
  
“I know. The clan was a touchy subject for you even when we were growing up.” He reminded her. Aoife nodded.  
  
“And I felt responsible. I still feel responsible.” She told him, not meeting his eyes. Talagan frowned a little at her.  
  
“What happened to them, Aoife?” He asked. She took a deep breath.  
  
"They moved to Wycome, to escape the growing danger posed by the war between the Templars and the mages. Deshanna had already sent me to the Conclave, and Haven had already fallen. I kept thinking about moving the clan here. There's more than enough space. But I just, I just kept getting distracted." Aoife admitted, feeling guilty all over again. Talagan frowned, but didn't interrupt. "I guess I just kept thinking there would be more time."  
  
"The Keeper sent you the younglings?" He asked softly. She nodded.  
  
"Yes. There are thirteen of them." She told him. He was quiet for a long minute, frowning.  
  
"May I see them?" He asked. Aoife nodded again.  
  
The younglings had been keeping their distance from the man, as none of them remembered him, but Aoife brought him to where they were staying in the castle.  
  
" _ Da'len _ , this is Talagan." Aoife said softly, drawing each of their eyes. "He's Clan Lavellan, just like us." She told them. Kyva came up to look at him.  
  
"You look like my da." She said, eyes watery. Talagan was shocked quiet. Aoife nodded a little.  
  
"Your da was his uncle." Aoife explained. Kyva sniffled a little.  
  
"This is all that remains?" He asked her softly. Aoife hummed a small sound of agreement. Talagan turned to look at all of them, each of them looking at him with guarded looks.  
  
"My  _ mahmen _ talked about you." Ilya spoke up, drawing Talagan's attention.  
  
"Your  _ mahmen _ ?" Talagan asked.  
  
"Yara." Aoife answered softly. Talagan nodded slowly. He looked back to Ilya.  
  
"She said you were brave." Ilya told him. Talagan took a deep breath.  
  
"And why did she think that?" He asked Ilya. Ilya's face screwed up, like he was trying to remember.  
  
"She said you loved  _ hahren _ enough to be stupid." The boy said bluntly. It surprised a laugh out of Talagan, and he glanced at Aoife with a fond smile.  
  
"Yeah. I guess so." He agreed softly. Aoife flushed and made her escape, leaving Talagan with thirteen curious younglings as she headed out of the castle.  
  
Cassandra caught her on her way out of the Great Hall.  
  
"Aoife, may I have a word?" She asked softly, seeming nervous. Aoife nodded her head and followed Cassandra down the steps.  
  
"Are you okay, Cass?" She asked, measuring the stiff line of the other woman's shoulders. Cassandra shut them into the momentarily empty forge and began pacing. "Cassandra?"  
  
"If I were to have . . .  _feelings_ . . . for someone. Someone unexpected." She stopped pacing to meet Aoife's eyes. "Would they be welcomed?" She asked softly. Aoife's expression softened.  
  
"I think you would have to talk to that someone, but I don't think they'd turn you away." Aoife told her. Cassandra studied Aoife's face for a long moment. She sighed and shook her head.  
  
"It is foolishness. A distraction." She argued sadly. Aoife stepped closer and took one of Cassandra's hands in hers.  
  
"It is not foolishness to care for someone." Aoife argued back. She gave Cassandra's hand a small squeeze. Cassandra let out a rushed breath.  
  
"What if he laughs at me?" Cassandra asked, in the smallest voice Aoife had ever heard the other woman use. She took both of Cassandra's hands in hers.  
  
"I can promise you he would do no such thing." Aoife told her. Cassandra studied her face before she shook her head again.  
  
"He wouldn't be interested. I am not soft. I don't swoon, and I don't have time for falseness and fake flattery." Her voice was almost bitter as she spoke. "He would not be interested in me." She repeated. Aoife narrowed her eyes.  
  
"What exactly gave you the idea he wanted some fainting, dainty lady? You read his books, the lead of his romance serial is the tough-as-nails Knight-Commander with a sweet, soft underside. You don't know that he wouldn't be interested, Cassandra." She argued. "If you don't want to tell him, you don't have to. But I think you're missing out on something that could be great. For both of you. And I don't think he would be as unwilling as you think he would. He might surprise you." She insisted. Cassandra studied her friend for another long moment.  
  
"It is foolishness." She repeated softly. Aoife gave her hands another squeeze.  
  
"Love makes you brave enough to be stupid." Aoife said, thinking about what Ilya had said earlier. Cassandra still looked unconvinced. "Just promise me you'll think about it." Aoife prompted. Cassandra took a deep breath and nodded.  
  
"I will think about it." She promised slowly. "I have thought of little else." She admitted. Aoife laughed softly.  
  
"I'm going to hug you now, Cassandra." She said, before tugging the woman into a tight hug. Cassandra sighed, but returned the hug.  
  
"Thank you for listening, Aoife. You must have so many other things to worry about." She told her. Aoife shrugged and squeezed Cassandra a little tighter.  
  
"I will always worry about my friends first." Aoife answered. She let go of Cassandra and gave her a bright smile. Cassandra returned it with one a little dimmer, but no less real.  
  
"How are you holding up?" Cassandra asked her. Aoife cocked an eyebrow at her.  
  
"I'm fine?" She said, questioning. Cassandra placed her hands on Aoife's shoulders.  
  
"It must be difficult, having Talagan back while you are with another man. I cannot imagine the choice you stand faced with." Cassandra said softly. Aoife frowned a little.  
  
"Do I really have to choose?" She asked softly. Cassandra shrugged.  
  
"I don't know. I think that it something you will have to decide for yourself. I do not envy you that. I cannot decide what to do about one man, much less two of them." Cassandra said lightly, giving Aoife a smile. Aoife groaned out a loud sigh.  
  
"Men." Aoife said fondly. Cassandra laughed a little.  
  
"Men." She agreed.  
  
There were another three agonizing weeks in which the three of them danced around making eyes at one another. Iron Bull made more than one passing comment about his flexibility in sharing, ranging from the discreet to the downright lascivious.  
  
The first time it happened, she'd been watching Talagan speaking quickly with Cassandra. The two of them had been laughing over something, Aoife didn't know exactly what, and her heart had been so full just at the sight of them. Iron Bull had slipped up behind her and leaned down to kiss the back of her neck.  
  
"You know," he began, nibbling a line up to the tender point of her ear, "I wouldn't mind if you wanted to include him behind closed doors. Or on the stairs. Or in the war room - I don't think he's been inside it yet at all, and what better way to introduce him than letting him get inside -" Aoife twisted around and slapped a hand over his mouth, moving so fast she nearly impaled herself on one of his horns.  
  
"Bull! That's . . . that's not . . . I don't want to talk about it!" She insisted, pink from the tips of her ears to her throat. Iron Bull only licked her palm and laughed when she jerked away from him. His laugh followed her out of the courtyard as she stomped away from him, blushing so hard she fairly radiated. (She thought about it for the rest of the afternoon, so distracted by the thought of them  _ together _ with her that she spilled the cup of tea Vivienne gave her all down the front of her.)  
  
The next afternoon found Aoife outside, soaking up the warm sunlight and watching Iron Bull training with the Chargers. Talagan slipped up beside her and rested his shoulder against hers.  
  
Things hadn't been exactly  _ easy _ between them since he regained his memory. There were a whole lot of emotions to work through for both of them, and she'd been trying to give him his space to deal with whatever he needed to deal with before they talked. But she was glad when he sought her out, even for just a few moments.  
  
"He's yours?" He asked, nodding toward Iron Bull. Aoife smiled softly and nodded, leaning back against Talagan's shoulder. He hummed quietly in response. When Iron Bull tossed Krem over his shoulder like a loose sack of potatoes - Krem's offended squawk echoed through the courtyard as Iron Bull laughed - Talagan whistled a low sound.  
  
"I bet you climb him like a tree, don't you? I don't blame you for it, either. You always did like climbing the biggest trees." Talagan murmured. His voice was warm, and unless Aoife deeply misunderstood,  _ interested _ . "I did always like watching you." He continued, turning his eyes on her. They were wide and heated. They stood there for another long moment, the tension growing nearly unbearable, before she heard Cassandra calling her name.  
  
"Sorry, gotta go. Part of the burden, and all that. Bye!" She mumbled, mouth dry, walking away as quickly as she could as a furious blush began to spread.  
  
If she had glanced back over her shoulder, she might have noticed the look Talagan and Iron Bull shared before they both watched her walk away, appreciative and thoughtful in equal parts.  
  
It took another few pointed comments and lingering stares pointed both directions before Aoife thought she probably had it all figured out. It wasn't that the idea of having them both was so foreign. For the majority of the time she'd known Valen, they'd regularly kept two or more partners on hand. But her relationship with both of them was more than just the sex, and the idea that she could keep them both was terrifyingly great.  
  
_ Could it really be so easy? Could I really have everything I want? Could I let them keep me? _ She wondered as she fell asleep. Iron Bull was staying in the tavern for the night, something about keeping an eye on the latest game of Wicked Grace, and she slept fitfully without him by her side.  
  
The following morning she woke, sore and tired and intent on hunting them both down to have a Serious Conversation. She'd made it to the bottom of the stairs when Morrigan intercepted her.  
  
"Inquisitor. I think it is time to speak about what we plan to do next." She said, smiling gently at Aoife. The woman had been a surprisingly eager and helpful resource after absorbing the Vir Abelassan. She'd even translated a few of the books down in Aoife's library for her as a Satinalia gift. Despite the run in with Flemeth and the panic-inducing episode with her son and the eluvian, Morrigan had been a welcome sight around Skyhold. Or perhaps it was the panic she'd seen on Morrigan's face that had made the woman so much more than just another human trying to take away her heritage.  
  
"We've heard nothing from Corypheus for months. Since the Temple of Mythal." Morrigan said softly, matching Aoife's pace as they headed through Skyhold. Aoife nodded slowly.  
  
"I don't know what's worse. The constant assaults or the looming quiet." She muttered. Morrigan gave a wry laugh.  
  
"Either way, I am beginning to think we will worry ourselves to death before Corypheus has another chance to kill us. I think it is time to move forward." Morrigan agreed.  
  
The two of them were crossing the Great Hall, headed for another war council meeting about the situation in the Hissing Wastes, when the sky ripped open once more. Aoife felt it from the very tips of her fingernails to the roots of her hair, like dying by inches.  
  
When she finally picked herself up off the floor, she was surrounded by worried faces. She blatantly ignored all of them, especially the naked anxiety on Iron Bull and Talagan's faces, and steadied herself.  
  
"Well, I guess it was about time for  _ something _ to go to shit. Things have been going just a little too well for us lately." She joked half-heartedly, shoving down the tight knot of worry building up in her chest. "Let's get to it."  
  
She met Iron Bull's eyes, and then Talagan's, but she didn't bother trying to convince them that she was fine.  
  
No one would have believed her, regardless.


	46. forty-six - Guardian 9:43 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And look at you, all not dead. Nice work, kadan."
> 
> "You live, and I can breathe again."

**Forty-Six. Guardian 9:43 Dragon**

 

Talagan found her first, before she left Skyhold. Everyone was in high gear attempting to get everything ready for the race to Haven. Aoife had been heading for the stables herself, trying to tie her foot wraps as she raced through the castle. He tugged her into a side hall and held her hands tight.  
  
"You come home." He said seriously. "You come back home to me."  
  
Aoife held his stare for a long moment before she threw her arms around his neck. His arms slipped around her waist in a familiar move, and he tucked his face in the curve of her shoulder.  
  
"I'll try,  _vhenan_." She promised. She heard a sound behind her, but before she could look to see what it was, two large arms had wrapped around both her and Talagan from behind her. Iron Bull pressed a kiss onto the top of her head.  
  
"You make that same promise to me." He told her, one hand resting on Talagan's shoulder as the other slipped through her hair. "Don't go where I can't follow." Aoife turned her head to meet his eye. His face was drawn and serious.  
  
"I'll try,  _vhenan_." She repeated softly. Iron Bull gave her a tight smile before he turned his stare to Talagan.  
  
"You too. You come home too." Iron Bull said. One side of Talagan's mouth twitched up into a half-smile.  
  
"Only if you do." He said. Iron Bull gave them both a long stare before he laughed. He leaned forward and smacked a kiss on Talagan's forehead before doing the same to Aoife.  
  
"Let's go kill this asshole for good." He said, giving them another squeeze. "Seems like we have things to talk about." He grinned. Aoife laughed and shook her head.  
  
"Sure. We'll all come home and talk." She promised. Talagan's grin turned heated.  
  
"Or one or two other things." He said lightly. Iron Bull laughed loudly.  
  
"Oh,  _kadan_. I like him so much." He said, tugging them both toward the door. Aoife gave them both a fond grin.  
  
"Me too." She said softly, and she followed them out of the door.  
  
When it was over, and the dust had settled around them, the man who would have been a god was sealed into the Fade and powerless. There was a warning in her mind that said it was probably just the beginning. Men who wanted to be gods didn't just disappear into the ether and quietly retire. But Aoife was tired, tired right down to her bones, and the relief of being alive and the end of the most immediate threat was heady enough to push all her worry away for another day.  
  
She heard movement off to her left and saw Solas approaching slowly. He had been fighting with the others, down in the valley, but he was the first to find her in the ruins of the Temple. He knelt down just a few feet away from her, reaching for something on the ground. She shuffled closer to him, bracing her bad arm as she did.  
  
The orb that he had carried was shattered, destroyed by the power she forced through it to close Corypheus into the Fade. Solas reached out to pick up a shard of it. The look on his face was indescribably sad.  
  
"Solas," Aoife began, edging closer, "I know you wanted the orb saved -"  
  
"It is not _your_ fault." He told her, staring at the pieces of the orb in his hands. "It hardly matters now." The pieces dropped from his hands like they burned him and he stood abruptly to face her. There was a yawning chasm of sorrow - a terrible, tangled, tangible ache - in his eyes as he looked at her. Aoife stepped closer.  
  
"There's more, isn't there?" She asked him. He frowned deeply, shaking his head.  
  
"It was _not_ supposed to happen this way." Solas answered. Aoife reached out to him. "No matter what comes, I want you to know that you will always have my respect." He stepped back from her, but held her gaze. "And you have been a _true_ friend."   
  
Aoife opened her mouth to say something when she heard laughter. She glanced over her shoulder, trying to pinpoint it, before turning back to speak to Solas. But he was gone. She wondered how long he would be gone. If he would _stay_ gone. It was strange to think that she would miss him if he never returned.  
  
She heard shouts headed toward her, and turned just in time to see Cassandra closing the space between them with quick strides. She bore a grin so wide Aoife could see each and every one of her teeth before she yanked her into the tightest hug Aoife had ever received. She felt her sore arm twinge in protest, but she hugged the woman back. Somewhere behind her, Iron Bull laughed, so loud and relieved that he couldn't quite hold it all in, and the sound of it echoed out across the battlefield. Talagan shouted her name. And Aoife was . . . alive.  
  
She was alive and as whole as could be expected, and so were every single one of the people she loved. Morrigan let out a heavy breath.  
  
"Victorious, I see," she sighed, staring up at the sky, "what a novel result." Iron Bull pushed past her to take Aoife from Cassandra's arms.  
  
"And look at you, all not dead. Nice work, _kadan_ ." He grinned, holding her close. Talagan appeared at her other shoulder, pressing healing magic into her hurt shoulder. She gave him a weak grin and he heaved out a heavy sigh.  
  
"You live," he said softly, tucking and errant curl behind her ear, "and I can breathe again." He pressed his forehead to hers and took a deep, slow breath. Aoife flushed gently. Morrigan stepped closer.  
  
"And it seems the Breach is finally closed." She announced. Aoife nodded, sighing heavily.  
  
"Looks that way." She agreed. Cassandra cleared her throat.  
  
"What do we do now?" She asked, glancing around at the gathered group of people. All of them were looking worse for the wear, but Aoife was happy to see they were all there. If she'd have lost any of them, she wasn't sure she could have handled the loss. She glanced between Iron Bull and Talagan before sparing a look over her shoulder. Solas wasn't there, and she hadn't really expected him to be, but there had still been a little hope. She met Cassandra's eyes and smiled.  
  
"Now, we go home." She answered, and a smile crossed all of their faces.  
  
And for the first time in nearly 14 years, Aoife took a deep, full breath; fire, and screaming, and done.


	47. forty-seven - Guardian 9:43 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Maker knows, I could use the sleep."
> 
> "What, Dorian not letting you get a moment's rest?"
> 
> "More like he steals all the covers."

**Forty-Seven. Guardian 9:43 Dragon**

 

The party that followed the saving of the world, two days after they all returned to Skyhold, dragged on for  _ hours _ .  
  
Aoife couldn't begrudge them the celebration - after all, they'd lived to see the world get saved. She found Sera first, perched on the edge of a table and laughing wildly.  
  
"Finally got a party, yeah? A bit of fun for saving the world!" Sera waved around the room. "It's the  _ least _ Andraste's Herald deserves for making things normal again. Except for, you know, everything ever again. I mean, is this for us, or for Her? Or, you know,  _ Him _ ? Because I was there, and I still don't know what's real." Sera's eyes were serious as they met Aoife's. Aoife took one of Sera's hands in her own.  
  
"Honestly, Sera? In the wake of all this awful shit, I think people should think whatever brings them comfort." Aoife said. Sera studied her.  
  
"So . . . you don't know. Just like everyone else. Fine. Put it all behind us." She nodded like she'd reached a decision. "Still some things to do yet, right? Because I'm in no hurry to go back to . . . Val Royeaux, that's where I was. You mind if people still stay around? For whatever?" Sera asked, not meeting Aoife's eyes. Aoife squeezed her hand, drawing Sera's attention.  
  
"This is home, Sera. If you'll have it." She said softly. Sera held her gaze for a long moment before she laughed.  
  
"Oh, shut it, you. I cry, I'm punching  _ everyone _ ." She warned, sniffling. She pushed Aoife lightly. "Alright, enough of that. Is this a party, or what? Raise 'em for winning!" She called, rallying the people around her for a toast. The people around them yelled out in joy. "Big frigging heroes, Inquisitor. All of us." Sera gave her another smile before letting go of her hand. Aoife took the hint.  
  
"Alright, Sera. I'll go visit someone who appreciates me, now." Aoife teased. Sera snorted.  
  
"Daft, you are." She called back. Aoife left with a grin.  
  
She sought out Cullen next. He was holding up a wall near the front entry, ostensibly as a guard, but she saw the way his eyes followed Dorian around the room. Aoife slipped up beside him and leaned against the wall to his left.  
  
"Am I imagining it, or do we have a moment to breathe?" Cullen murmured to her. Aoife snorted.  
  
"Oh, it's definitely your imagination. The party, the cake, the way you keep staring at Dorian's butt . . ." Aoife trailed off, grinning as Cullen flushed. "It's all an elaborate dream." Cullen laughed, but didn't deny Aoife's assessment.  
  
"Maker knows, I could use the sleep." He agreed. Aoife grinned wider.  
  
"What, Dorian not letting you get a moment's rest?" She teased innocently. Cullen shook his head and sighed fondly.  
  
"More like he steals all the covers. Why he insists on staying in my room, Maker only knows, but he -" He cut himself off, flushing a deep red. Aoife put on an incredibly interested look.  
  
"Oh, no, don't stop on my account." She teased. Cullen cleared his throat and Aoife took pity on him. "How are the men?" She asked. He grabbed onto the topic like a drowning man thrown a raft.  
  
"You should hear the stories they're telling in the barracks, the pride in their voices. Some of the soldiers have requested leave to return home, but many would follow us still." He patted her shoulder. "You are proof that the Inquisition has made a difference. And that we will continue to do so."  
  
"That's why we're having this fancy party. Celebrate, Cullen . . . you've earned it." Aoife pressed, bumping his shoulder with her own. "And if you decide to slip away with Dorian after a while, well, I won't tell anyone." She teased. She walked away before he had a chance to retort. Iron Bull was seated at the head of a table nearby, talking in low tones to Talagan and watching Aoife as she approached with a private smile.  
  
"What are you two doing over here?" Aoife asked, stepping close to both of them and putting a hand on each of their shoulders.  
  
"Later." Talagan promised, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. "I've got to go speak to Varric about something. I'll find you later." He waved at the two of them and disappeared into the crowd of people. Iron Bull tugged Aoife into his lap, and she let out a yelp that almost sounded offended.  
  
"Bull!" She scolded, but snuggled into him nevertheless. Iron Bull grinned and tugged her chin up for a deep kiss. He nipped at her bottom lip before pulling back to grin at her again.  
  
"You know, that was the Tevinter-est Vint in the history of all the Vints. The original mold from which all subsequent Vints were cast. And I got to help kick the shit out of him. Good times, Boss. Good times." Iron Bull said, sounding entirely too pleased. Aoife scoffed and nudged him with her shoulder.  
  
"Yeah, well. I'm glad you were there. There's no one I would have rather had at my side." She told him. He nodded and took a deep drink from the mug in his hands before wiping his mouth and letting out a pleased sigh.  
  
"Same here. I got to kill another dragon, and fight a Vint,  _ and _ stare at your ass the whole time. Those poor bastards on the ground had demons." He said nonchalantly. Aoife laughed.  
  
"Well I'm glad my ass didn't cause you any problems." She teased. He shrugged and shifted her on his lap, tugging her closer to growl into her ear.  
  
"Depends on your definition of problems,  _ kadan _ ." He nipped at her ear lobe after watching the shudder race down her spine. Aoife smacked his chest half-heartedly.  
  
"Tease." She scolded. He gave her a quick wink and shrugged.  
  
"It's weird, though. I joined the Inquisition under orders from the Ben-Hassrath, and stayed because Corypheus was an asshole. Now that it's done, I've got no orders. For the first time in my life, I can go wherever I want." Iron Bull said, and his voice was quietly awed. Aoife shifted to meet his gaze.  
  
"And, where is it you want to go?" She asked him quietly. He watched her a moment before a soft look crossed his face.  
  
"If it's all the same to you,  _ kadan _ , I've got everything I need right here." He made a point of gesturing to the wide hall, but the hand on her hip tightened meaningfully. Aoife returned his soft look with a small grin before clearing her throat.  
  
"Anyway, you know I'll find you all the best fights." She said. Iron Bull laughed.  
  
"I know, I know. Anyway, the only place I'm going tonight is back for more drinks." He lifted his mug toward her in a salute. "To us being alive, and the bad guys not!" He drained the mug and smacked it down on the table. "Anaan!" Aoife snagged a mug off a tray one of the servants was carrying around the hall and put it in the Iron Bull's empty hand.  
  
"I want to go visit with everyone, but I'll come find you later." Aoife promised. Iron Bull tugged her face close for a deep kiss before letting her slip off his lap.  
  
"If I don't find you first." He answered, watching her with a heated look. Aoife laughed and pushed away from him.  
  
"Tease." She said fondly, before slipping back into the crowd.  
  
"Oh, I should never have hired new caterers so late." Josephine muttered, brushing past Aoife completely distracted. Aoife followed along behind her. Leliana caught sight of Josephine busily scribbling away at her writing tablet. She slipped up beside Aoife and tugged the tablet out of Josephine's hands. "Oh! Leliana, I was -"  
  
"Leave it be, Josie! Everything's fine!" Leliana insisted, holding the writing pad out of Josephine's reach. Josephine frowned fiercely.  
  
"It is not!" She insisted, reaching for the tablet. She stopped short as she caught sight of Aoife standing beside her.  
  
"Oh! Aoife. I'm so sorry, nothing's quite as it should be. Do you like the drinks? I'm not so sure about them." Josephine asked, frowning. Aoife linked arms with Josephine and smiled.  
  
"The drinks are fine, Josephine. It's been a wonderful evening." Aoife insisted. If possible, Josephine frowned harder.  
  
"I hope you're not just saying that. You're not, are you?" Josephine asked. Aoife laughed softly and shook her head.  
  
"I wouldn't lie to you." Aoife promised. Josephine huffed, and Aoife was startled to realize the poor woman was near tears.  
  
"It's all just a disaster! The sommelier was late, the invitations to our guests barely went out at all, and . . . and . . ." She sighed and met Aoife's worried stare. "It was so wonderful to prepare for a small banquet instead of the end of the world." A watery grin spread across Josephine's face and Aoife gave her a little squeeze.  
  
"No one else could do what you do, Josephine." Aoife assured her. Josephine sighed again.  
  
"Do you know what everyone is talking about tonight, from commoners to kings? Us. Thedas is discussing the success of Inquisition." Josephine's voice was bright with wonder. Aoife grinned.  
  
"You played no small part in our rise to the top, Josephine. We wouldn't have half the contacts we do now if you weren't around." Aoife insisted. Josephine laughed.  
  
"You had a role yourself, if I recall correctly." She teased. Aoife laughed as well.  
  
"I suppose you're not wrong." She agreed. Josephine laughed once more before growing somber.  
  
"Truly, we will never forget those we've lost, but for tonight . . ." She trailed off, studying the press of people around them, "to victory." She said, giving Aoife's hand a small squeeze.  
  
"To victory." Aoife agreed. She slipped out from Josephine's grip and stepped closer to Leliana, who was surveying the room from a corner nearby.  
  
"Are you enjoying the refreshments? Josephine sent all the way to the Capital for the  _ petit fours _ ." She pointed at a small tray on a table nearby. Aoife hummed in surprise.  
  
"Ooh! I didn't know there were cakes! Remind me to thank Josephine for the trouble." She said, reaching for the little tray. Leliana laughed.  
  
"She's been craving the cakes from Madame Lucienne's shop for months. This celebration gave her the perfect excuse." Leliana whispered, delighted. She lifted a small glass of wine toward Aoife. "To you, Inquisitor. For all that you've done."  
  
Cole found her next, as she was slipping between two courtiers determined to get her attention.  
  
"I couldn't have come with you. He would have bound me, broken me. Made me a monster. But he's dead now, so I'm safe." Cole whispered, tucking his hand in Aoife's arm. Aoife gave his arm a little squeeze.  
  
"I'm glad, Cole. Everyone's a little safer now that he's gone." Aoife agreed. Cole nodded his head, eyes wide as he stared at her.  
  
"What happens next, Aoife? Where do we go?" He asked. Aoife sighed and patted his hand.  
  
"It'll be interesting to see what comes next, no matter what we do. Don't you think?" She asked.  
  
"Yes. Because of you." Cole agreed. He gave her a tight hug. "Thank you for letting me stay, Aoife." Then he was gone before she could respond. Aoife stared in the direction she thought he'd slipped with a fond grin on her face.  
  
"You know, it's worrying how often I catch you grinning at nothing." Dorian said, walking up behind her. Aoife smacked his chest lightly with the back of her hand.  
  
"You don't know I'm grinning at nothing." She argued. Dorian only grinned and handed her a mug of cider.  
  
"I was passing through the hall earlier and a serving girl saw me and squealed. Actually squealed. Dropped her laundry and everything, such a mess. She was completely breathless.  _ You were at the battle with the Evil One, weren't you? _ I didn't even get a chance to answer. She hugged me." Dorian paused to meet Aoife's laughing eyes. " _ Hugged _ me. This is  _ your _ influence." He accused her. Aoife laughed.  
  
"Admit it, Dorian, you're having a ball." Aoife insisted. Dorian held his steady expression for a moment longer before laughing. He slung an arm around her shoulders.  
  
"I don't trust  _ camaraderie _ ." He said the word like it was something particularly foul. "All these people smiling, buying me drinks . . . it's unnatural." He took a drink from the mug he still held in his hand. "Mind you, I can't say I hate the notion of being the  _ good _ Tevinter.  _  I suppose you can't _ all _ be evil bastards. _ The blacksmith said that, and he  _ spat _ when we first met." Dorian took a deep breath, a faint grin on his face. Aoife wound an arm around his waist.  
  
"Seems like pariah-hood is treating you pretty well." She agreed. Dorian laughed.  
  
"I hope my father hears. He will shit his smallclothes from shock, I swear." He seemed entirely too pleased at the idea. Aoife elbowed him just for good measure.  
  
"So what, are you going back to Tevinter now that the fighting's over?" She asked, worried. She'd tried not to press the issue too much, but the thought of him leaving was slowly beginning to terrify her. He frowned at tugged her into a quieter section of the hall.  
  
"No, actually. I was thinking of sticking around . . . for a while." He admitted. Aoife felt a weight drop from her chest.  
  
"You will?" She asked softly. Dorian nodded.  
  
"Tevinter lacks the presence of my best and only friend. It'll keep." He said quietly. A grin spread across her face and she tugged Dorian into a tight hug.  
  
"Thanks,  _ ma falon _ ." She whispered. Dorian squeezed her a little tighter.  
  
"Of course,  _ amica _ ." Dorian answered. He held her out at arms length. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I have a Commander to convince to leave this party early." He winked at her. Aoife laughed.  
  
"Happy hunting!" She called after him. She caught sight of Cassandra standing nearby and made her way to her.  
  
"Cassandra!" Aoife called, drawing her attention.  
  
"I can't believe it's over." Cassandra admitted as soon as Aoife was in range. "It seemed an impossible task; defy the Chantry, build the Inquisition from nothing, defeat a creature that would be a god . . . and yet, here we are, celebrating." She seemed faintly relieved. Aoife tucked her arm through Cassandra's .  
  
"Had your doubts about me, did you?" Aoife teased. Cassandra made an offended sound.  
  
"About you? Never!" She insisted. Aoife held her stare and Cassandra shook her head. "Alright, maybe at first, when you were my prisoner." She clarified. Aoife grinned. "I think back to how we first met, and now, here you stand. You are the Inquisitor. A symbol of hope and change to so many. And you are my friend. How did that happen, I wonder?" Cassandra's voice was soft. Aoife leaned against her.  
  
"I guess you just got lucky." She teased. Cassandra laughed.  
  
"I am pleased I did. You are a great woman, Aoife. And I will always stand at your side." Cassandra promised. Aoife felt herself flush a little.  
  
"Well, maybe not  _ always _ ." She said wryly. Cassandra's face creased in confusion for a single moment before it cleared and she made a disgusted sound in her throat.  
  
"Why do you always ruin the moment?" She asked, sounding incredibly tired.   
  
"It's just part of my charm, I guess." Aoife retorted. "How have things been with a certain someone since we talked last?" She asked. Cassandra shrugged, but a flush was high on her cheeks.  
  
"I _may_ have sought him out before we left Skyhold." Cassandra hedged. Aoife motioned for her to keep speaking, an eager grin on her face. Cassandra's flush grew. "And we  _may_ have had a discussion." She admitted finally. Aoife squeeled a little with excitement.  
  
"A discussion or a  _discussion_?" She asked in a low, excited voice. Cassandra couldn't meet her eyes.  
  
"There . . . there may have been a kiss . . . involved." She managed to get out. Aoife let out a shriek that drew the stares of several people around. Aoife slapped at Cassandra's shoulder excitedly.  
  
"And you waited this long to tell me?!" She asked. Cassandra caught her hands, her flush as bright as Aoife had ever seen it.  
  
"I did not . . . we haven't . . . it could have just been . . . " Cassandra said, trying to dissuade Aoife's excitement. Aoife shook her head, grinning so widely her face hurt.  
  
"You know perfectly well he doesn't do simple, uncomplicated things!" She whispered excitedly. "Oh, Cass. I'm so happy for you." Cassandra stopped arguing long enough for a sweet smile to cross her incredibly red face.  
  
"I am, too. Aoife, thank you. Thank you for being my friend." She let Aoife draw her into another tight hug and managed another round of Aoife squeeling at her before she composed herself.  
  
"Alright, that's enough. There are people beginning to stare." She pointed out. Aoife scoffed.  
  
"I don't care! But I'll leave you alone for now!" Aoife said, almost sounding like a warning. She squeezed Cassandra in another tight hug before she stepped away to seek out Vivienne. Cassandra waved her off with a deep sigh.  
  
Vivienne was holding court in the other end of the Great Hall, surrounded by courtiers all vying for her attention. Vivienne noticed her and waved her over.  
  
"So much to do, my dear!" She said by way of greeting. "I've already contacted my tailor in Val Royeaux. I have nothing at all appropriate for a Divine's coronation. Of course, nothing is final until the vote, but whispers from the Grand Cathedral are confident. But that will all wait, my dear. Are you enjoying the celebration? Josephine was in a frenzy arranging it." Vivienne said. Aoife nodded.  
  
"You know what, Madame? I am enjoying it." Aoife announced. The nearby courtiers began giggling. Vivienne cut them off with a sharp stare before smiling gently at Aoife.  
  
"And well you should, darling. This is all for you, after all. Enjoy yourself, you've earned it. Go and mingle, darling. The night is still young." Vivienne said, approval and dismissal all in one. Aoife didn't fight it though, and slipped back into the crowd to seek out Varric. She found him at the opposite end of the table from Sera, watching the crowd with a soft grin on his face.  
  
"You know," he said as she drew close and perched on the arm of his chair, "I've been thinking about putting all of this into a book, Twist. I'm thinking  _ This Shit Is Weird: The Inquisitor Lavellan Story _ ." He gave her a quick grin. "What do you think? It's a working title." Aoife laughed.  
  
"Maybe keep working." Aoife suggested. Varric nodded and winked.  
  
"Well, nothing's certain until it's in print, Twist, so you've got some time to come up with something better for me. Besides, I still haven't decided if I  _ should _ write this book. As if anyone will believe this story if it tell it. Not to mention, I'll have my hands full with the reconstruction and relief efforts in the Free Marches as soon as I get back." Aoife shook her head.  
  
"No, focus on helping people. The book will keep." She insisted. Varric nodded.  
  
"You're right, but it's still nice to know I've got something to fall back on if need be. Besides, it's past time I went back home and settled things in Kirkwall. Hawke said he'd probably head back soon, too. But I'm not leaving for a while yet. We'll have to get in at least one more game of Wicked Grace before I go. Curly needs to win back some of his dignity." He laughed, nodding toward Cullen. Aoife followed his stare and laughed.  
  
"True." She agreed. She gave him a long look. "So I was talking to Cassandra earlier." She said mildly. Varric narrowed his eyes at her for a small moment before he sighed gently.  
  
"Alright, alright. You were right, Twist." He said, sounding entirely too pleased to carry off the grumpy tone he was trying for. Aoife laughed brightly.  
  
"Of course I am. That's my job, remember?" She teased. He shook his head, still looking entirely too pleased. "Be nice to her, okay?" She said softly. Varric scoffed.  
  
"Nice to  _her_? She wouldn't know how to handle it." He said, and Aoife watched his eyes searching through the crowd. "Gotta keep her on her toes, so to speak." He teased. Aoife gave his shoulder a light shove.  
  
"Shouldn't you be the one on your toes? She  _is_ so very tall, you know." She joked. Varric scoffed and shrugged.  
  
"It has its benefits." He said mildly. Aoife let out a shocked laugh.  
  
" _Varric!_ " She scolded, still laughing. Varric shrugged again.  
  
"Like you're one to talk, with that giant Qunari of yours." He pointed out. Aoife shrugged, still laughing.  
  
"I guess you're right. It does have its benefits." She agreed. She gave him another fond smile. "Be good to her, ok? And don't let her be mean to you, either." She said. Varric gave her a bland look, but his eyes were twinkling.  
  
"Yes, mother." He said mildly. Aoife put on a scandalized look.  
  
"I am almost an entire year younger than you, you know." She pointed out. Varric shrugged.  
  
"Mothering has no age limit." He said. Aoife studied him for a long moment before laughing again.  
  
"Sure, Varric. Whatever you say." She leaned down to give Varric a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for . . . well. Thanks for everything, Varric." Aoife said softly. Varric grinned and lifted his mug in salute.  
  
"No, Twist. Thank  _ you _ ." He insisted. Aoife gave him another soft smile and slipped back into the crowd.  
  
She tried to find Talagan or Iron Bull again in the press of people, but every time she thought she saw one of them she was waylaid by another person who wanted to thank her for killing Corypheus.  
  
"This is ridiculous, how can I lose a seven foot tall Qunari?" She grumbled to herself, making her rounds through the room again. No one had said anything to her about it yet, but the space Solas should have been occupying, maybe in the corner with Cole, or seated by the fire with Varric, was a glaring emptiness to her.  
  
And everyone  _ kept _ thanking her. Everyone. They all saw her as a hero and not just an elf with an accidentally magical hand and a complete inability to abandon people.  
  
On her slow turns of the room she saw the others she'd collected along the way - Dagna, and Harritt, and Dennett, and all the rest who had answered her call and marched under the banner of the Inquisition - all of them laughing and relieved, so desperately relieved.  
  
She watched them laugh and celebrate and spared herself just a moment to mourn all that they had lost along the way.  
  
There would be proper time later, to mourn and bury the dead properly and write all the many letters she needed to write. Aoife vowed to write them herself, because they had all answered Aoife's call, and Aoife should be the one to tell their families. But in that moment, they all had time to celebrate.  
  
After two years of destruction and terror, demons and rifts and a would-be god, red lyrium and mage revolts and destruction, she couldn't tell them not to be happy. Even if she couldn't quite set down the burden she was carrying to fully join the festivities herself.  
  
When she'd stayed long enough to satisfy Vivienne's quiet command to mingle, she made her escape.  
  
She thought she'd been clever enough to escape unnoticed when she found Iron Bull and Talagan waiting for her, leaning against the wall in the landing of her stairs. She stood there for a moment, assessing the way they were watching her.  
  
"I've been looking for you both for ages. Have you been hiding here since I saw you hours ago?" She asked, stepping closer to them. Their joint gaze grew heated.  
  
Iron Bull reached for her first, whispering  _ kadan _ and Talagan was right behind with a muttered  _ vhenan _ , and then they were kissing her. Their lips were hot and slick across her skin. Iron Bull licked slowly into her mouth as Talagan kissed a path down her neck and across the backs of her shoulders.  
  
Aoife didn't know where to put her hands first. One of them reached behind her to fist into the back of Talagan's tunic while the other reached up to wrap around Iron Bull's left shoulder.  
  
"We think you could use some time to yourself,  _ vhenan _ ." Talagan said, slipping his hand around her hips as he searched for the edge of her tunic. When he found it, his fingers dipped under it to stroke the soft skin of her stomach, sending a heated shiver through her.  
  
Iron Bull's voice was a low rumble against her lips as he reached around her to tug Talagan closer, squeezing her between the two of them.  
  
"We've thought up one or two ways to help you with that,  _ kadan _ ." Iron Bull growled, pulling them both up the stairs with him. Aoife heard Talagan's breath hitch against her shoulder as she was pressed tight between them, and she felt them both hard and aching for her.  
  
Aoife moaned deep in her throat at that, and as the night passed, she found herself a mass of aches everywhere for all the  _ right _ reasons.  
  
She spent the night aching and moaning and begging between them, and she didn't really know how she'd gotten lucky enough to keep them both, but she wasn't about to let either of them slip through her fingers again.


	48. forty-eight - Guardian 9:43 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I was worried you'd say they weren't good enough for me."
> 
> "Oh, I'm certain they aren't, girl. But if you're happy with them, I can be happy with that."

**Forty-Eight. Guardian 9:43 Dragon**

 

Aoife woke the next morning naked and snuggled between the two men she loved the most. Iron Bull was already awake, watching the way she and Talagan curled together like spoons in a drawer. He smiled fondly down at her, ruffling her pale hair as she stretched. She curled closer to him, resting her head on his chest and listening to the strong, steady beating of his heart.  
  
"I'm not sure what any of this means." She admitted after a minute or two, feeling somehow as though her luck was going to run out at any moment. Iron Bull's smile grew impossibly fond.  
  
"It means that we talked it over, and we decided it wouldn't be fair to make you choose between us." He began, sliding his fingers against her scalp. "But we also were willing to step aside, if you hadn't wanted this either. We can work out the details later, if you want, but the broad strokes are that the three of us are in this together." She felt Talagan shift behind her before he rested her head against her back. He threw his left arm over her and as much of Iron Bull as he could reach.  
  
"Plus, we're both  _ really _ attracted to you. For lots of things other than your body, but your ass is a definite win." Talagan added sleepily. He kissed a soft trail up her shoulders. "And if you don't mind sharing, we don't." He punctuated his statement by drawing his hand up Iron Bull's chest and nipping at Aoife's shoulder. Iron Bull tugged Aoife up onto his chest and kissed her, and she decided to put both of their tongues to better use.  
  
Later, when the two of them were sleeping soundly and curled around her like kittens, she catalogued the scars and bruises on their bodies.  
  
Aoife thought about the way she'd spent her entire life resentful of stillness and sameness, the kind of naked longing most people had for  _ home _ . But between the two of them, both brave men who had fought and bled  _ for _ her and  _ beside _ her, she thought she might finally understand.   
  


* * *

  
Sera mentioned it first.  
  
"Oi, Aoife!" Sera called, catching Aoife's attention. She glanced around the courtyard to see Sera perched on the roof of the tavern where they'd shared cookies.  
  
"Yes, Sera?" Aoife called back. Sera motioned sharply for Aoife to join her. Aoife sighed heavily, but climbed up to sit on the roof with Sera. "Yes, Sera?" She repeated. Sera eyed her for a moment.  
  
"So, you're bedding them both, yeah?" Sera asked, a sly smile beginning to curve across her face. Aoife sighed again.  
  
"Not at present, no." Aoife demurred. Sera snickered loudly and shoved at Aoife's shoulder.  
  
"Shut it, you. You are!" Sera yelled. Aoife nodded, a grin beginning to curve across her face.  
  
"Alright, alright. So what if I am?" She asked. Sera laughed again, snorting this time.  
  
"I was concerned about you walking before. Now I'm not sure how you're able to do anything at all. Do they let you sleep at all? Are you sure you should be up and walking about?" Sera teased. Aoife narrowed her eyes at Sera. She glanced down to quickly measure the distance between the roof and the ground. And then shoved Sera off. Sera hit the ground laughing.  
  
The next one to say anything was surprisingly Cullen.  
  
They'd been back in Skyhold nearly a week, and most of the soldiers had worked out their hangovers enough to return to regular duties. Aoife was making the rounds when she peeked her head into Cullen's office. Cullen looked up from where he'd been frowning at his desk and waved her in.  
  
"Cullen, how are things today?" Aoife asked, propping herself on the edge of his desk. Cullen rolled his shoulders and shrugged.  
  
"About back to normal, thanks to all your efforts." He stacked a few reports on the opposite corner of his desk and leaned back in his chair. I have a question, Inquisitor. If you don't mind?" He began. Aoife shrugged.  
  
"You can ask, but if you don't call me Aoife, I can't promise I'll answer." She told him. Cullen smiled at her gently.  
  
"Aoife, then. I suppose we  _ have _ worked together long enough to be past formalities." He agreed. Aoife gave him a bright smile.  
  
"I always knew you were a smart man, Cullen." She teased. "Now, what did you want to ask me?" She prompted. Cullen shifted, beginning to look uncomfortable.  
  
"I wanted to ask . . . about the, uh,  _ nature _ of the relationship between The Iron Bull, your friend Talagan, and yourself." Cullen said. Aoife furrowed her brow.  
  
"May I ask why you would like to know?" She hedged. Cullen sighed and leaned forward onto his elbows.  
  
"Look, it isn't because I have any particular opinion about it, Aoife." Cullen began. "But I should like to think that after this long, we're friends. And I want to know that my friend is in a relationship that she wants." He said, meeting and holding Aoife's stare despite the fierce blush on his face. Aoife's frown softened into a look of understanding.  
  
"I promise that this is what I want." She told him. Cullen studied her face for a long moment before he nodded.  
  
"Alright. Good. As long as it's what you want." He said, satisfied. He gave her a soft grin. "Up for a game of chess?"  
  
The last person to outright ask about her relationship was Tomas.  
  
After the battle with Samson in the Arbor Wilds, Tomas was even busier. He'd made something of a name for himself once he'd started working with the Inquisition, and his advice as a trapper and a tradesmen were in high demand. He'd been in Val Royeaux during the final confrontation, and only made it back two weeks after everything was finished.  
  
He caught Aoife as he was entering the gates of Skyhold.  
  
"Tomas! You're back -" Aoife began, but was cut off by the stern look on his face. He dragged her into the nearest gate house, where his stern glare also cleared out the few scouts sitting around the table inside. When it was just the two of them, Tomas sat down heavily in one of the chairs.  
  
"I hear you almost got yourself killed." He began, nodding pointedly to the chair in front of him. Aoife winced slightly and sat.  
  
"Not as 'almost killed' as I've been before." She admitted. Tomas' stare grew heavier.  
  
"Is the bastard dead?" He asked. Aoife nodded quickly.  
  
"Yes. Well, as far as we can tell. I sealed him into the Fade with no way out." She shrugged. Tomas exhaled on a deep sigh.  
  
"You're going to age me before my time, girl." Tomas said softly. Aoife grinned and reached across the table to take his hand in hers.  
  
"No more than any of your other kids will." Aoife insisted. Tomas shook his head.  
  
"None of them are off fighting would-be gods with delusions of grandeur." He groused, but he gave her hand a tight squeeze. "Then again, I wouldn't put it past any of them, either." He admitted. Aoife laughed.  
  
"I'm still in one piece." She argued. Tomas sighed again.  
  
"I can see that. Maker's breath, girl. I don't suppose you could leave the fighting to other people?" He asked. Aoife shook her head.  
  
"Nope!" She agreed brightly. Tomas grumbled a little before giving her hands another squeeze.  
  
"Well, anything else you want to spring at me?" He asked her meaningfully. Aoife cocked her head to the side.  
  
"I think that would depend entirely on what Irenna wrote you in her last letter." Aoife hedged. Tomas sighed dramatically.  
  
"Something about my eldest daughter dating not one, but two men I have yet to meet?" He said innocently. Aoife frowned.  
  
"You have definitely met The Iron Bull. Like, loads of times. Irenna works with his team. And you knew Talagan from back with my clan." She argued. Tomas nodded.  
  
"Oh, sure. I've seen them both in passing. But you haven't introduced us yet, girl. Not officially." He pointed out. Aoife frowned again. "Are you worried we won't like them?" Tomas asked her softly. Aoife shrugged.  
  
"Honestly, Tomas. It's all. Very new." She admitted slowly. "And yeah, I guess. Part of me  _ is _ worried you won't like each other." Tomas squeezed her hands again.  
  
"Do you like them?" He asked. Aoife nodded. "Do you love them?" He asked again. Aoife nodded once more and Tomas smiled. "Then I think we won't have a problem." Aoife smiled gently.  
  
"I was worried you'd say they weren't good enough for me." She began, and Tomas snorted.  
  
"Oh, I'm certain that they aren't, girl. You saved the world. But if you're happy with them, I can be happy with that." Tomas told her. Aoife grinned again.  
  
"Come have dinner with us? Bring the kids?" She offered. Tomas smiled at her.  
  
"Of course we will, girl." He said softly. Aoife stood from the table.  
  
"I guess I need to tell them to get ready to officially meet my dad?" Aoife asked. Tomas laughed brightly.  
  
"Don't you dare! Don't tell them anything! That Qunari of yours might be bigger than me, but we've all agreed you're my kid now, and that carries weight." Tomas threatened, joining Aoife as she headed for the door. She threw her arm around his shoulders and laughed.  
  
"Sure, just like you're starting to." She teased, poking at his stomach. Tomas made an offended sound and reached out to swat at Aoife's hand as she darted away. Her laughter echoed around the courtyard, and everyone who heard it smiled.


	49. forty-nine - Cloudreach 9:43 - 9:45 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're going to miss me so much."
> 
> "Not any more than you'll miss me."
> 
> "I guess we'll have to see."

**Forty-Nine. Cloudreach 9:43 - 9:45 Dragon**

 

People began leaving around two months after the battle with Corypheus.  
  
Sera was the first, although she left with a quick raspberry at Aoife and a two-finger salute, promising to  _ 'Be back soon, yer gracious Ladybits! So don't you go finding another archer!' _ She'd been spending more time giggling in Dagna's direction, so Aoife knew she'd be back soon enough, if only to spend more time with the eccentric arcanist.  
  
Vivienne was next, just a few days after, slipping away in a flurry of cheek-kisses and courtiers. Aoife was incredibly relieved that she was on Vivienne's good side every time she thought about what Vivienne was going to do with the Capital once she got there.  
  
Varric left the day after Vivienne. He held Aoife's hand obligingly all the way across Skyhold's bridge, and although it was a near thing, she didn't cry. He'd promised to write her as soon as he got back to Kirkwall, and she stared after him for as long as there was light to see. It was nearly dark before Aoife made her way back across the bridge.  
  
Cassandra had begun the long process of recreating the Seeker order, something that kept her out of Skyhold for long weeks at a time. She wrote letters, though, enough that Aoife didn't miss her as much as she might have otherwise.  
  
Dorian was the last of them to leave, nearly six months after the final confrontation. To his great embarrassment, he cried more than she did. He'd said a private goodbye with Cullen the night before, but that night as he stood by the carriage set to take him home, he hugged her tightly and sniffled into her hair.  
  
"You're going to miss me so much." Dorian said, but his voice was watery and his face was still hidden in Aoife's hair. Aoife nodded her head.  
  
"Not any more than you'll miss me." She answered. Dorian let out a soft laugh.  
  
"I guess we'll have to see." He squeezed her tightly, and then he too was gone.  
  
Iron Bull and his Chargers took odd jobs in between duties with the Inquisition, and Talagan and Valen spent time travelling out for errands here and there. Sometimes they travelled with Aoife when she went off sealing up rifts and mopping up other disasters, and sometimes she agreed and let Irenna and Mikhail join her. But when they were all together, laughter still rang through the halls of Skyhold.  
  
The two years that stretched between the final sealing of the Breach and the Exalted Council were good and bad in equal measures. Aoife spent more time laughing than fighting, and she called that a win for many reasons. The Inquisition continued its efforts to provide support and supplies to the most devastated areas, and even began a project for the rebuilding of Haven and the Temple of Ashes.  
  
Iron Bull was out on a mission that would keep him gone for nearly two months. Talagan had gone with him when he learned that the Chargers would be rescuing a group of Tranquil that had been isolated during the war. He'd thrown himself into researching anything and everything about the Rite of Tranquility, and with Cassandra's help, he'd been methodically removing it from everyone who wanted it gone.  
  
Aoife had resigned herself to a lonely two months, and then there came the call for an Exalted Council.  
  
When Aoife read the summons, she'd cursed in every language she knew, which, since Dorian and Iron Bull and Josephine were all busily teaching her, was a number that kept growing.  
  
She'd never been very good at holding her tongue where the Orlesians were concerned, but she was determined to try. For Vivienne and for her friends, and for all the people they'd worked so hard to save, she would try.  
  
So when Josephine asked her to, she stuffed herself into her stiff formal wear and played nice at the meet and greet and pretended that she didn't hate every moment she spent in Halamshiral. There were formal greetings and conferences and debates. The first night included a feast that lasted for hours, long enough that Aoife almost fell asleep at the table. She was surrounded by fake niceties and not-so-hidden hidden daggers and all of it was cloyingly sweet.  
  
She'd escaped to the small bar set up inside the grounds of the Winter Palace when she heard a familiar voice calling out to her. Aoife turned to see Krem hurrying toward her with a grin.  
  
"Your worship!" Krem called, dragging Aoife to a corner of the small bar.  
  
"Krem! I didn't know you guys would make it in time! Last I'd heard, your mission was keeping you out until at least next month." She said happily, not so subtly looking around for Iron Bull. Krem gave her a bright smile.  
  
"Yes, Chief wanted to surprise you." Krem said, all bright eyed as he grinned at her. "Anyway, I'm glad you're here. I need you to keep the Chief distracted while we sneak this dragon skull through the room behind you." Aoife followed Krem's pointed gaze to the huge dragon skull sitting just outside the door. Aoife laughed and shrugged.  
  
"Oh hell, why not. I'm looking forward to seeing where this goes." She said brightly. Krem seemed to visibly relax.  
  
"Thanks, Your Worship. It's for his birthday! Just keep him talking, he  _ loves _ talking." Krem whispered excitedly. Aoife laughed and waved Krem along.  
  
She glanced around the bar and caught sight of her two lovers sitting together. Iron Bull was seated behind the bar, directly in the corner of the building where he could keep his good eye on everything. Talagan was seated on top of the bar just to his right, and both of them were watching her. She made her way to them, grinning and waving at people as she walked by.  
  
"Hello  _ kadan _ ." Iron Bull greeted as she neared. She reached out for both of them, pressing their hands to her cheeks in a small display of affection.  
  
"You're both assholes for not telling me you'd be here." She scolded, still grinning at them wide enough to make her face hurt. Talagan shook his head.  
  
"As if we'd make you deal with this alone." He said, sounding vaguely offended. Aoife let out a laugh and dropped their hands from her face, but she didn't let go of them. She turned her gaze to Iron Bull.  
  
"Your letters could have  _ mentioned _ that." She admonished gently. Iron Bull always wrote the letters. Talagan sent his affections along, but his penmanship was  _ atrocious _ . They both laughed.  
  
"Then there wouldn't have been any room for the  _ other _ things I have to tell you about." He answered, and his voice was a low rumble that sent a shiver through her. For a brief moment, their shared gazes grew heated and sharp. Iron Bull sent along all kinds of information to the Inquisition while he was travelling, but to  _ her _ he sent along all the things he planned on doing the next time he saw her. In crisp, aching detail. Talagan cleared his throat.  
  
"Not here,  _ vhenan _ . We'll have time for all that later." He promised them, looking pointedly at the both of them. Aoife sighed and leaned back to drop down on a bar stool. Iron Bull cleared his throat.  
  
"So, did you make time for a drink?" He asked, motioning to the alcohol behind the bar. Aoife caught sight of the Chargers just out of the corner of her eyes as they began the arduous task of moving the large dragon skull. She knew her goal was to keep him talking, and she panicked.  
  
"Uh, well, you know. I've been asking around for some new equipment, for us." She began, wondering exactly where she was going with that. Talagan and Iron Bull gave her twin dubious looks before lecherous grins crossed their faces. She felt a deep flush rise over her cheeks, but now that she'd started, she wasn't sure she could stop. "There's a merchant in Val Royeaux who sells these silver rods with little cuffs that work likes stocks."  
  
By the time she'd managed to stop talking, Iron Bull and Talagan were both grinning so widely at her that she had to look away from both of them. Iron Bull hummed low in his throat and sent appreciative looks at both Aoife and Talagan.  
  
"I prefer rope work myself. Knots are easier to adjust, and more intimate." Iron Bull's voice rumbled over her and he squeezed her hand meaningfully. Talagan let out an airy sigh.  
  
"But, if it's stocks you want, you're worth it  _ vhenan _ ." He teased. Iron Bull nodded, a look of excitement on his face.  
  
"Ooh! Maybe the merchant will throw in some clamps too!" He said. Aoife felt her blush deepen. She chanced a short glance over her shoulder when Iron Bull stopped talking to take a drink. Rocky was on top of the skull, for some unknown reason, as Krem pushed the thing along with Skinner. Stitches was leaning against a nearby post and watching the spectacle with mild amusement.  
  
Aoife quickly glanced back to Iron Bull and Talagan.  
  
"Something wrong,  _ ma vhenan _ ?" Talagan asked her mildly. Aoife shook her head.  
  
"Nope! I was just thinking about something else I learned today! Did you know that Ferelden has its own names for Lords? The country is divided into teyrnirs, governed by Teyrns. Inside those are cities and arlings, ruled by the Arls. And then there's the Bannorn. It's a large area of countryside, ruled by multiple Banns." Aoife said brightly. Iron Bull shifted and raised an eyebrow at her.  
  
"Good to know." He said mildly. Aoife laughed a little nervously. A glance behind her told her the Chargers weren't quite in place yet. She searched about for another topic but came up empty and groaned.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry. I can't do this . . ." She began, shaking her head. Iron Bull laughed a little.  
  
"Sure you can! They must have that thing halfway across the room by now, right?" Iron Bull asked, smiling at her. Aoife narrowed her eyes at him. "Ben-Hassrath, remember?" He teased quietly. Aoife pouted a little. At that moment, the Chargers pushed the heavy skull the last few feet and assembled around it.  
  
"Surprise! Happy birthday Chief!" Krem called out brightly. Iron Bull grinned at Aoife and Talagan before shifting around to see his crew. Aoife shared a soft smile with Talagan as they watched him walk across the room.  
  
"Oh, you guys! You got me!" Iron Bull said, happily waving to the dragon skull. The Chargers let up a round of cheers and Iron Bull gave Aoife and Talagan both a look of good-natured teasing. They watched him saunter back to join them at the bar and Aoife frowned.  
  
"So, when exactly where you planning on telling us your birthday? And why has it taken us two years to find out you celebrate it?" She asked him, eyes narrowed. Iron Bull shrugged almost sheepishly.  
  
"Well, I don't. Not really. The guys do something every year because  _ they _ all celebrate their own birthdays. Qunari don't really  _ have _ birthdays, remember?" He asked her. Talagan frowned.  
  
"So, today isn't really your birthday?" He asked. Iron Bull shrugged.  
  
"It's the day I formed the Chargers. So in a way, it's more my birthday than anything else would be." He answered brightly. Talagan and Aoife shared another short look before they both leaned up and kissed Iron Bull's cheeks.  
  
"Happy birthday,  _ vhenan _ ." Aoife whispered. Talagan repeated the sentiment against Iron Bull's opposite cheek. His answering grin was bright.  
  
The following day was filled with boring meetings and more fake flattery. She sat through hours of debate, spending most of the time watching Cassandra's eyebrows as she grew more and more agitated. She was incredibly fond of her friend, but she could only imagine that Cassandra as Divine would have been only marginally more dangerous due to the fact that Aoife was absolutely certain she would have carried a sword under her robes. Vivienne, at least, appeared to be completely unruffled by the snooty rulers around her, sending Aoife brief, bright smiles whenever their eyes met.  
  
During the afternoon break, she found herself at the tavern again, tucked in between Talagan and The Iron Bull and watching Sera handily out-drink a fair number of the Ferelden guardsmen. She’d spoken to Cassandra earlier in the morning and the woman had made her curious about things. She glanced at The Iron Bull and waited until he met her eyes.  
  
“So, we’ve been together a few years near. You ever think of going . . .  _ further _ ?” She asked him softly. Talagan shifted closer and gave her a curious stare. The Iron Bull shrugged, frowning softly.  
  
“I don’t really see how we can top that night that we did it with you hanging from the chandelier.” He answered. Talagan snorted with amusement beside her and Aoife felt her face growing hot.  
  
“I . . . uh, that’s . . . that’s not really what I  . . .” She stuttered, covering her face with her hands. She took a deep breath. “For all intents and purposes, Talagan and I were married when we were 16 and declared our choices in front of the clan. Old enough for  _ vallaslin _ , old enough to be married. But I was wondering if you . . .” She trailed off, glancing through her fingers to meet his stare.  
  
“You’re my  _ kadan _ . Both of you. That’s a choice I make every day. I don’t need to be bound to it.” The Iron Bull said gently, taking their hands in his own. Aoife felt a curious lightness in her gut, like she had the first time she’d told him she loved him. Talagan slipped his arm around her waist and gave her a soft squeeze.  
  
“But?” He asked, meeting The Iron Bull’s stare. The Iron Bull sighed fondly.  
  
“But, if you like the binding, then when this is over, we’ll make it official. However you both like.” He promised them. Aoife smiled softly at them both.  
  
“I’d like that.” She answered. Talagan pressed a kiss to The Iron Bull’s hand.  
  
“Me too.” He said. The Iron Bull’s answering smile was all proud male.  
  
“Good.” He said.  
  
Then it was back to the meetings and debates. She spent the rest of the afternoon doing her level best to stay awake as they continued to natter on about all the things the Inquisition had done. She’d been there, she didn’t need the recap. She thought Josephine was doing admirably, though.  
  
And her hand was  _ aching _ , but she wouldn't let any of them know. She especially couldn't tell Talagan and The Iron Bull - but they knew, and they hovered and stared and whispered when she wasn't looking, and it would have pissed her off if she didn't know just how much they really loved her.  
  
So she pushed forward and put on the show, playing the proud but humble Inquisitor Lavellan, despite the fact that all of it stank of wrongness.  
  
And then the first Qunari soldier turned up dead. And the rules changed.


	50. fifty - Cloudreach 9:45 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I am going to stop you. You have to know that."
> 
> "Oh, my friend. I hope so."

**Fifty. Cloudreach 9:45 Dragon**

 

When she saw him again, after two years of absence and whispers, it was in the decaying ruins of a world she'd never known.  
  
She stumbled out of the last eluvian, bloody and battered after her fight with the Dragon's Breath, and right into the frozen statue of a Qunari in full swing. She stumbled away from the visage, panicked, before realizing that it was solid stone.  
  
"Elgar'nan's left  _ tit _ , you scared me." She breathed, reaching out to touch the cold stone. "Who would make these statues?" She asked herself. There were more of them, spread across the clearing she found herself in. She slowly moved through it, following the path and stepping around the statues as she came to them. She stepped closer to one and studied the face. A violent snarl was spread across it, and as she stared at it, Aoife felt afraid again.  
  
"Not statues, but petrified?" She asked softly, touching the stone with her fingertips. A noise from the top of a nearby hill drew her attention. The Viddasala was standing on top of the hill, shouting at another, smaller figure, and there was an eluvian still lit behind them.  
  
" _ Ebasit kata. Itwa-ost _ ." Came a quieter voice. Aoife began moving quicker. She was close enough to clearly see the Viddasala.  
  
" _ Maras kata! _ " She shouted. Aoife ran toward the figures. As she drew closer, she heard the other one speak in a low, even tone.  
  
"Your forces have failed. Leave now and tell the Qunari to trouble me no further." The second figure said, and Aoife's breath caught in her throat. She strained to see the second person as she rounded the bend.  
  
_ Could it be? _ She wondered, pushing herself closer. The second figure turned and began walking away from where the Viddasala stood. The Viddasala shifted her weight and leaned back as though to throw her spear toward the back of the retreating figure, when suddenly, she froze. Turned to stone just like all the others. Aoife got close enough to see the familiar bald head and made her decision.  
  
"Solas." She called out, and watched as he stopped in his tracks. He glanced over his shoulder, as though weighing his odds, before turning to walk up to her. As he approached, the mark flared, shooting pain up her arm and sending her to her knees. As Solas drew nearer, the pain stopped, and the mark quieted. She glanced up to see him staring at her fondly.  
  
"That should give us more time." He told her. A wry grin crossed his face. "I suspect you have questions." Aoife stood, and glanced between her hand and Solas.  
  
"How were you able to control the anchor?" She asked, motioning to her left palm. Solas nodded toward it.  
  
"In the same way as when I stopped it from killing you at Haven . . . although I am stronger now." He paused for a moment. "The mark you bear was bestowed upon you by the orb of Fen'Harel. My orb." He said quietly, and she watched his eyes moving over her face. She wondered if they were tracing her  _ vallaslin _ .  
  
"You're Fen'Harel." She said. She clicked her tongue. "Should have known the one god left wasn't the one interested in answering prayers." She said wryly. His lips quirked in a small grin.  
  
"I was Solas first. 'Fen'Harel' came later . . .an insult I took as a badge of pride. The Dread Wolf inspired hope in my friends and fear in my enemies. Not unlike 'Inquisitor', I suppose. You also know the burden of a title that all but replaces your name." Solas told her. Aoife nodded then, lips settling into a frown. She was quiet for a moment before speaking.  
  
"Deshanna taught me the legends, when I was younger. But they're wrong, aren't they? I saw the truth as we made our way through the Crossroads." She said, motioning over her should back to the eluvian she came through.  
  
"You saw another story, written in desperation to give me more credit than I ever deserved." He answered sadly.   
  
"You were a hero to them, Solas." Aoife insisted. Solas sighed before turning to face down the wide valley.  
  
"I sought to set my people free from slavery to would-be gods. I broke the chains of all who wished to join me." At that, his eyes travelled pointedly over her  _ vallaslin _ . "The false gods called me 'Fen'Harel', and when they finally went too far, I formed the Veil, and I banished them forever. Thus I freed the elvhen people and, in so doing, destroyed their world." Solas's voice was terribly sad. Aoife frowned again.  
  
"Just how did creating the Veil destroy the world?" She wondered. Solas turned back to face her again.  
  
"You saw the remains of Vir Dirthara. The library was intrinsically tied to the Fade, and the veil destroyed it. There were countless other marvels, all dependent on the presence of the Fade. All destroyed. The legends your Keeper taught you are half-right. We were immortal. It was not the arrival of the humans that caused us to begin aging. It was me. The Veil took everything from the elves, even themselves." Solas explained, turning back to the ruined valley below them. Aoife studied his profile and the sad set of his brow.  
  
"But, you love the Fade. Why would you create the Veil to hide it all away?" Aoife asked.  
  
"Because every alternative was worse." Solas answered, facing her.  
  
"Meaning?" Aoife pressed.  
  
"Had I not created the Veil, the Evanuris would have destroyed the entire world." He explained. Aoife stepped closer to the edge of the ledge they stood on.  
  
"You said that the elven gods went too far. What did they do that made you move against them?" She asked him. She was beginning to wonder if she'd ever really known him at all.  
  
"They killed Mythal." Solas began, and he laughed sadly, "A crime for which an eternity of torment is the only fitting punishment." His eyes and voice were both hard. Aoife shook her head.  
  
"I thought Mythal was one of the Evanuris." She frowned.  
  
"She was the best of them. She cared for her people. She protected them. She was a voice of reason. And in their lust for power, they killed her. " He explained. He turned away from her again, staring out across the ruins ahead of them. Aoife sighed heavily.  
  
"So, wait. You banished the false gods - you didn't kill them?" Her brow was furrowed. Solas glanced at her again.  
  
"You met Mythal, did you not? The first of my people do not die so easily. The Evanuris are banished forever, paying the ultimate price for their misdeeds." His voice was a low grumble when he spoke about them. Aoife rubbed at her forehead and the headache beginning to grow.  
  
"Okay, so. Let me recap. You're Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf who killed the elven gods. Only, you didn't kill them, just locked them away behind the Veil because they killed Mythal. Who also isn't dead. And also, they weren't gods? The Evanuris were just mages? How did they come to be remembered as gods?" She asked him, still rubbing at her forehead.  
  
"Slowly." He began, frowning. "It started with a war. War breeds fear. Fear breeds a desire for simplicity. Good and evil. Right and wrong. Chains of command. After the war ended, generals became respected elders. Then kings. And finally, gods. The Evanuris." He shook his head slowly. "I told you once I wondered what kind of hero you would be remembered as. I hope your tale is kinder than mine has been,  _ lethallan _ ."   
  
"That's the past, though. What about the future?" Aoife asked, turning to face him. Solas turned away from her and took a few steps toward the eluvian.  
  
"I lay in dark and dreaming sleep while countless wars and ages passed. I woke still weak a year before I joined you." He continued walking toward the eluvian and Aoife followed. "My people fell for what I did to strike the Evanuris down, but still some hope remains for restoration."  
  
The eluvian he was leading her toward was the largest she'd ever seen before, so vast and wide an entire army could come through it easily. She wondered if it had lead armies through before.  
  
"I will save the elven people, even if it means this world must die." Solas said finally. Aoife scoffed.  
  
"Why does this world have to die for the elves to return?" She asked him. He didn't face her.  
  
"A good question, but not one I will answer. You have always shown a thoughtfulness I respected. It would be too easy to tell you too much." His voice was fond and sad in equal measures. "I am not Corypheus. I take no joy in this. But the return of my people means the end of yours. But this is my fight. You should be more concerned with the Inquisition. Your Inquisition. In stopping the Dragon's Breath, you have prevented an invasion by Qunari forces. With luck, they'll return their forces to Tevinter. That should give you a few years of relative peace." His eyes were incredibly sad when he finally turned to face her. She wondered how she'd missed that look for so long before. She frowned at him before speaking.  
  
"Is it really my Inquisition? The Qunari said the Inquisition was unknowingly working for agents of Fen'Harel." Aoife stared hard at him. Solas shook his head.  
  
"I gave no such orders." Solas argued. Aoife narrowed her eyes.  
  
"You led us to Skyhold." She pointed out. Solas nodded in her direction.  
  
"Corypheus should have died unlocking my orb. When he survived, my plans were thrown into chaos. When you survived, I saw the Inquisition as the best hope this world had of stopping him. And you needed a home. Hence, Skyhold." Solas told her. His face softened for a moment as he looked at her. "It could not have a better Keeper." He admitted. Aoife sighed.  
  
"You know, I always wondered how you knew about the orb when I hadn't said anything to you. Why did you give it to Corypheus?" She pressed. Solas shook his head again.  
  
"A mistake I made in passing. I made many when I talked with you." He admitted slowly. "But I didn't give it to him. Not directly. My agents allowed the Venatori to locate it. The orb had built up magical energy while I lay unconscious for millennia. I was not powerful enough to unlock it. The plan was for Corypheus to unlock it, and for the resulting explosion to kill him. Then I would claim the orb from his corpse." He looked down and away from her. "I did not forsee a Tevinter magister having learned the secret of effective immortality." He admitted. Aoife scoffed.  
  
"What exactly did you expect to happen Solas? What would have happened if Corypheus died and you'd managed to recover the orb?" She asked him. He glanced down at her left hand, which was beginning to throb with increasing pain.  
  
"I would have entered the Fade, using the mark you now bear. Then I would have torn down the Veil. As this world burned in the raw chaos, I would have restored the world of my time . . . the world of the elves." He admitted sadly. Aoife shook her head.  
  
"That doesn't make sense. If you destroyed the Veil, wouldn't the false gods be freed?" She asked pointedly. Solas shrugged.  
  
"I had plans." He said simply. Aoife studied him for a long moment.  
  
"I had lots of opinions about you, Solas. But I never thought of you as someone who would do that." She admitted. Somehow that seemed to lift a weight from him, but he glanced away.  
  
"Thank you." He said softly, before he met her eyes again. "You must understand me, Aoife. I awoke in a world where the Veil had blocked most people's conscious connections to the Fade. It was like walking through a world of Tranquil." His voice was vaguely horrified. Aoife snorted.  
  
"We aren't even  _ people _ to you?" She asked, nearing a snarl. Solas shook his head again.  
  
"Not at first. You showed me that I was wrong . . .again. That does not make what must come next any easier." He said, face drawn and sad again. Aoife let out a small tsk and glanced away.  
  
"I guess, whatever your reasons, we couldn't have destroyed Corypheus without you." Aoife admitted quietly. Solas shook his head again.  
  
"Your doubts are misplaced,  _ lethallan _ . Everything you accomplished, you earned." Solas insisted. Aoife nodded in a distracted way.  
  
"You said I should be worried about the Inquisition. What's wrong with it?" She asked him.  
  
"You created a powerful organization, and now it suffers the inevitable fate of such: betrayal and corruption." He told her. Aoife shrugged.  
  
"I'm not sure it's that simple." She argued. Solas let out a soft laugh.  
  
"Do you know how I discovered the Qunari plot? The plot I disrupted by leading them to your doorstep? The Qunari spies in the Inquisition tripped over my spies in the Inquisition. The elven guard who lead you to the Qunari body, who intercepted the servant with the  _ gaatlok _ barrel? Mine." He told her. Aoife felt herself growing irritated.  
  
"Why bother disrupting the Qunari plot if you're just going to destroy the world regardless?" She asked him, barely avoiding a snarl. Solas made an aborted move to take her hands in his.  
  
"You have shown me that there is value in this world, Aoife. I take no joy in what I must do. And until that day comes, I would see those recovering from the Breach free of the Qun." He insisted.  
  
"Why?" Aoife asked. Solas shook his head again.  
  
"Because I am not a monster." He began softly. "If they must die, I would rather they die in comfort. In any event, it is done."   
  
"I guess we owe you for that one, too." Aoife sighed. Solas gave her a wry smile.  
  
"I hope it gives your people some final peace." He said. Aoife nodded and pointed at the eluvian behind him.  
  
"You control the eluvians now?" She asked. Solas nodded.  
  
"Yes. You remember Briala from Halamshiral? For a time, she controlled part of the labyrinth. One of my agents was supposed to take it from her, but he did not succeed. I had to override the magic personally. The Qunari stumbled upon this section independently. With them gone, the eluvians are now mine." Solas told her. The mark on her hand crackled ominously.  
  
"There's still the matter of the anchor. It's getting worse." She told him, lifting up the marked hand. It crackled in the space between them. Solas's eyes grew even sadder.  
  
"I know,  _ lethallan _ . I'm sorry. And we are almost out of time." He said kindly. The mark flared up then, bright and angry, sending shooting pain from the tips of her fingers all the way up her arm to her armpit. It dropped her to her knees before him, and Solas took slow steps to close the distance before crouching before her. "The mark will eventually kill you. Drawing you here gave me the chance to save you . . . at least, for now."   
  
"You don't have to do this." She told him, panting through the pain. His eyes were incredibly sad as he faced her, like he knew she was right, he just couldn't stop the future from coming any more than Corypheus could have stopped the avalanche at Haven.  
  
"I am sorry,  _ lethallan _ ." He told her, and he was so, so gentle when he reached for her. "Take my hand." He said, standing up once more. Aoife put the glowing limb in his grip. When he took her hand, she gripped his tightly.  
  
"I am going to stop you. You have to know that. I won't let you destroy this world Solas. Not even for your pride." She swore through gritted teeth and tears. His smile was sad and fond, and for all that he had done, and all that she knew he was going to try to do, it was that smile that hurt the most in the end when he sighed. He dropped her arm for a moment and leaned close, pressing his forehead to hers in a soft moment of affection.  
  
"Oh, my friend," He said, cradling her face in his hands, "I hope so. I would treasure the chance to be wrong once again." He stepped back and took her hand again. His magic washed through her once again. "Live well, while time remains."  
  
And then he was gone.


	51. fifty-one - Bloomingtide 9:46 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When we took the fort at Caer Bronach, I may have misused some of my power to make sure this place was protected."
> 
> "It's well situated. You can see anything coming in either direction for at least a mile."
> 
> "It was Siobhan's."

**Fifty-One. Bloomingtide 9:46 Dragon**

 

When Talagan thought about Aoife - and he couldn’t believe he’d ever forgotten her, still had trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that he’d spent so long away from her - he thought about the way that crows remember the faces of the people who have been kind to them.  
  
Aoife was so gentle with the people she loved. Clumsy, perhaps, especially with her words. But he had always known her actions to be kind.  
  
Her kindness radiated from her when she chased the younglings around Skyhold, or spent time tinkering with Dagna, or spent a fruitless amount of time trying to mother Sera into wearing a clean shirt.  
  
The empty space where her left arm once was still pained her, and even a year later she sometimes woke up screaming between himself and Iron Bull.  
  
When they’d dragged her out of the Eluvian, bloody and barely breathing, her arm was a wreck. Solas’ magic had confined the damage below the elbow, but that was where the kindness ended. Horrible, weeping wounds streaked across the limb so deep they could see the white flashes of her bone when they moved her. The sound of her screams as they’d had to amputate the limb still echoed in his head on bad days.  
  
Iron Bull hadn’t said anything in that moment. He’d held her tight to stop her from fighting, and then held her tight to stop her crying. It was only later, when she’d finally slipped into a restless sleep, that he’d closed the space between the two of them and taken hold of Talagan’s hand.  
  
“ _ He will never take something from her again. _ ” He had said, and his voice had been so dark and vicious that Talagan hadn’t been able to do anything but nod in response.  
  
When they’d been trying to decide where to go after leaving the Inquisition, only a few months after it had been disbanded,  Aoife had led them to an empty house in Crestwood. She’d stopped just in front of it and took a long look.  
  
“ _ When we took the fort at Caer Bronach, I may have misused some of my power to make sure this place was protected. _ ” Aoife admitted, stepping closer to the house and not meeting either of their eyes.  
  
“ _ It’s well situated. You can see anything coming in either direction for at least a mile. And there’s ample space for training, gardening. Anything, really. _ ” Iron Bull observed, sounding pleased. Aoife gave them both a tight smile.  
  
“ _ It was Siobhan’s. _ ” She said quietly. Iron Bull grew sober and Talagan frowned.  
  
“ _ Siobhan? _ ” He asked. He’d heard the name mentioned several times after he’d returned to Aoife, but he hadn’t heard the whole story yet. Aoife let out a watery breath.  
  
“ _ Let’s go inside, and I’ll tell you everything. _ ” She promised.  
  
That had been nearly eight months earlier, and the three of them had worked hard at restoring the place and making it liveable. Krem had acquired a cabin nearby in the valley, as had other members of the Chargers, until the whole valley was populated by the Chargers and their growing families. Tomas even found a place further up the hill once the apothecary that lived there moved out.  
  
Talagan watched Aoife training in the yard with Iron Bull.  
  
“Keep your shoulder tight,  _ kadan _ ! Don’t let it drop or your defense will go to shit!” Iron Bull said, swinging around a wooden staff and laughing. Aoife swore at him in elvhen, but she was grinning too.  
  
When Talagan thought about her, he thought about the way ferns grow in tight coils before springing open to face the sun. He thought about the way she laughed when he tickled the backs of her knees. The way she always sighed when he kissed her chin. He thought about the way that, despite the fact that she was the single most damage-prone, impulsive, high-spirited person he knew, she was also the single most precious thing he’d ever held.  
  
“ _ Kadan _ !” Iron Bull yelled, drawing Talagan’s gaze. He was smiling at him, a sharp-edged thing that promised mayhem. He gestured toward Aoife, who was sprawled in the grass, sweaty and smiling as she gasped for air. “Why don’t you let her take a break while I work you over?” Iron Bull’s voice was honey-coated steel that promised bruises. Talagan raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
“That depends,  _ vhenan _ ,” Talagan hedged, rising from his seat on the porch and joining the two of them in the yard, “are you going to kiss me better later?”  
  
He dragged Aoife off the ground and snagged the sword she held in her right hand. He kissed her forehead softly before turning to face Iron Bull. Iron Bull laughed in another loud burst of sound before rolling his neck and settling into a fighting stance. Aoife limped her way out of range and collapsed on the ground near them with a laugh.  
  
“Don’t we always? Now kick his ass for me!”


	52. fifty-two - Justinian 9:46 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Copper for your thoughts, vhenan?"
> 
> "You already know."
> 
> "Yeah, I guess so."

**Fifty-Two. Justinian 9:46 Dragon**

 

Iron Bull had been  _ thinking _ about Aoife since the first moment he saw her dashing onto a rain-sodden battlefield with her knives twinkling like stars. He thought of her more wholesomely sometimes, too.  
  
He thought about the drinking songs she would sing with Krem - loudly, drowning out the sounds of the training grounds outside the tavern. Her voice was just shy of being off-key, but she was always so happy when she was singing.  
  
He thought about the knock-down drag-out fight she’d had with Valen after their battle with Corypheus. The human had waltzed back into Skyhold all smiles and glittering clothes nearly two months after the final confrontation and Aoife had nearly come unglued.  
  
“ _ Where have you been?! Do you know how to write a fucking letter? You’ve been gone for ages, what the fuck Valen? _ ” Aoife shouted, drawing curious stares from the various ambassadors scattered about the Great Hall.   
  
" _Now, now, kit. There's no need to shout._ " Valen had said mildly. Iron Bull had smacked Talagan's shoulder to draw his attention.  
  
" _We're going to have to pick one of them up off the floor soon._ " He said mildly. Talagan surveyed the two of them, the tight line of Aoife's shoulders and the deceptive ease of Valen's stance. He sighed shortly and met Iron Bull's eyes.  
  
" _Fifteen on Aoife for being the one left standing._ " He said. Iron Bull shook his head.  
  
" _Aoife has anger on her side, but Valen has reach, and they taught her. Twenty on Valen._ " He said. Talagan laughed.  
  
" _You're on._ " He agreed.  
  
The resulting argument had left two chairs and a statue broken and kept the Great Hall cleared of visiting officials for nearly a month. Aoife had been the one left standing, though only barely. Talagan had been unbearably smug for a month afterward. Iron Bull still thought about it fondly.  
  
He thought about the way she’d always liked to walk across the very tops of the walls at Skyhold despite repeated scoldings from both Cullen and Josephine (although they’d scolded her for different reasons; Cullen for the bodily harm that was sure to befall her, and Josephine for the appearance, although The Iron Bull knew Josephine was just as worried). He thought about the way she’d looked at him when she’d handed him the dragon tooth pendant that still hung around his neck.  
  
He also thought about the way she’d smiled when he asked how she felt about getting one made for Talagan, the way the smile had spread from the sweet dimples at the corners of her mouth all the way across her face like some kind of sunrise after the longest night he’d ever known.  
  
He thought about the way the water crashed along the shore of the Storm Coast, and the smell of sweet wildflowers tucked into her pale hair.  
  
When they’d moved into Siobhan’s old cabin, there had been an adjustment period. Aoife was still dealing with the loss of her limb, and Talagan and Iron Bull were trying to figure out how to give her the space she needed without abandoning her or step on each other’s toes. Aoife had been the one who eventually helped them help her.  
  
“ _ Talagan, will you do my braid? _ ” She asked softly, one rainy morning two weeks after they moved in together. Iron Bull watched Talagan move to sit behind her. They sat still for a long moment with Talagan’s fingers shifting through her hair before he began braiding in earnest. Iron Bull had watched them for a long moment before Aoife turned to meet his eye.  
  
“ _ Bull, can you clean and sharpen my knives for me? The balance will be off, but I want to try to work with them. Will you help me practice when Talagan’s done with my hair? _ ” She asked. Her eyes were nervous, like she thought he might refuse. He let out a short laugh and crossed the bedroom to give them both a sweet kiss.  
  
“ _Of course_ kadan _. Join me when you’re ready_.” He told her.  
  
Every morning after that, he watched Talagan braid her soft hair out of her face, singing something just under his breath. He felt like his heart was so much bigger than his body when he watched the two of them together. There were still some mornings when he woke up terrified he would learn it was all just some kind of fever dream.  
  
Their love for him was so soft, so much softer than anything he’d ever really known existed. He had laughed when people talked about love, and how they felt about their significant others. He’d even argued some people  _ out _ of falling in love. But when he watched Aoife and Talagan puttering about the house they fixed up with their own hands, he thought he might finally understand the draw.  
  
Aoife woke in him a hunger for home and safety and security. Even when his Chargers took him away from them (which was only on the rarest of occasions, as she and Talagan obstinately refused to be left out of absolutely anything) he knew that hunger walked with him everywhere, biding its time until they were back in his arms again.  
  
“Copper for your thoughts,  _ vhenan _ ?” Talagan asked, glancing up from where he sat braiding Aoife’s hair. Iron Bull grinned and shook his head.  
  
“You already know.” He promised. Aoife gave him a soft smile and Talagan nodded.  
  
“Yeah, I guess so.”


	53. fifty-three - Cloudreach 9:47 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I love you. I love you both so much. Thank you for loving me."

**Fifty-Three. Cloudreach 9:47 Dragon**

 

Aoife had never made a habit of superstition, despite her many run ins with various people bent on godhood and destruction.  
  
Even after living with Siobhan and seeing first-hand proof of the fact that her visions were real, Aoife still hadn’t changed her mind.  
  
It wasn’t until she was once again surrounded by fire and screaming that she began to change her mind.  
  
The screaming was mostly coming from her, and the fire burning nearby in the fireplace was boiling water for the midwife.  
  
“Push  _ kadan _ , push. You’re doing so great!” Iron Bull was excited and loud, squeezing her hand and supporting her bodily as she leaned back against his chest. Aoife groaned loudly, exhaling on a curse, and ignored him. Talagan was beside her, soft and gentle, wiping the sweat from her brow as the midwife checked the status of the baby.  
  
“ _ Vhenan _ , just once more. You’re almost there.” He whispered.  
  
And every part of her hurt, but she pushed, and then she was holding the tiniest, loudest screaming thing she could have ever imagined and gasping for air.  
  
Their baby would grow up to look like Talagan more than anything else, and she knew that. And there would be questions and judgemental people, she knew that too. But Papa Iron Bull didn’t care about any of that, and when she had told them she thought she was pregnant, they had been overjoyed.  
  
“ _ I need to talk to you both. _ ” Aoife said, bursting into the cabin that night, and her voice was steady but Talagan and Iron Bull both saw the tell-tale signs of fear etched onto her face.  
  
“ _ What is it? Is someone coming? _ ” Iron Bull asked gruffly, already reaching for a weapon. Aoife shook her head, holding her hands out to stop the both of them from getting up from the table.  
  
“ _ NO! No, no one’s coming. Well I think I saw Krem headed this way, but he could have just been out for a walk. But no, no. Sit, please. _ ” Aoife said quickly. Iron Bull relaxed back into his seat beside Talagan and they shared a worried look.  
  
“ _ Vhenan, is something wrong? _ ” Talagan asked gently. Aoife held their gaze for a long moment before she very suddenly burst into tears. Talagan and Iron Bull were out of their seats in a heartbeat, each reaching for her.  
  
“ _ Kadan! What’s wrong? Are you alright? Is it Dorian? Cassandra? Varric? Has something happened to Tomas? The kids? _ ” Iron Bull asked, wrapping his longer arms around both Aoife and Talagan. Aoife shook her head quickly, sniffling loudly.  
  
“ _ N-no, no they’re fine. It’s me! _ ” She sobbed. Talagan wiped the tears off her face and met Iron Bull’s eyes. He jerked his head toward the fireplace and they maneuvered her down onto the thick mat in front of it. Iron Bull tugged her cloak off while Talagan shifted her into a comfortable squish between the two of them. When they were all settled, Aoife took a deep, shuddering breath.  
  
“ _ I think I’m pregnant. _ ” She began, staring into the fireplace. She shook her head. “ _ Well I don’t think. I thought last week. Stitches confirmed it today. _ ” She clarified. Iron Bull and Talagan were shocked silent, each staring unbreathing at her. She shifted nervously between them.  
  
“ _ If . . . if you don’t want it . . . Stitches said he could . . . _ ” Aoife began, fresh tears flowing. Iron Bull and Talagan spoke at the same time.  
  
“ _ NO! Kadan! _ ” “ _ Vhenan, no! _ ”  
  
They met each other’s eyes. Shock was there, on each of them, but so were the faint beginnings of joy.  
  
“ _ Stitches is sure? _ ” Iron Bull asked her, shifting her hair out of her face. She still wouldn’t meet his eye but she nodded. Iron Bull met Talagan’s amazed stare again. Iron Bull had never considered children before - when he’d become a Ben-Hassrath they’d done some kind of magic he’d tried hard not to think too much about that would ensure he couldn’t have children. So it wasn’t anything he’d ever considered. But as he thought about it then, something incredible began to build inside of him.  
  
“ _ We’re gonna be dads? _ ” He asked, glancing back to Aoife again. She sniffled before answering.  
  
“ _ If you want to be. _ ” She said softly. They were all quiet for another moment before a loud, joyous laugh left Iron Bull.  
  
“ _ Fuck yeah! _ ” He laughed out, squeezing the two of them tight in his arms. “ _ We’re gonna be dads! _ ” He shouted at Talagan. Talagan laughed and nodded before turning his attention to Aoife, who was beginning to look a little bewildered, like she hadn’t thought they’d be happy.  
  
“ _ Do you want to be a mom, vhenan? _ ” Talagan asked her, wiping her face. Aoife’s lip trembled, but she nodded. She sniffed and let out a watery laugh.  
  
“ _ Of course, I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it. All the mother figures I’ve had have died. _ ” She admitted, tears still leaking out of her eyes. Iron Bull had laughed again.  
  
“ _ Kadan, you’ve been mothering every person in the Inquisition for years. I think you’ll do excellent! And we’ll help you! _ ” Iron Bull said, excitement growing. Aoife let out another watery laugh.  
  
“ _ Bull can name the child. _ ” Talagan said, drawing both of their gazes. Aoife knew what he was giving up, even if Iron Bull didn’t yet. “ _ The father always named the child in our clan. The child is going to look like me, there’s no two ways around that. But, it’s just as much yours as it is mine. So you should name them. _ ” Talagan insisted. Iron Bull had smiled so sweetly at the two of them then that they all ended up crying.  
  
“ _ I love you, _ ” Aoife said then, holding both of them as tightly as she could, “ _ I love you both so much. Thank you for loving me. _ ”  
  
Aoife loved them both so fiercely, and the way they stared down at the tiny bundle in her arms only reinforced that. The three of them spent a long moment staring quietly before Iron Bull cleared his throat.  
  
“Asala,” he said, reaching out to brush downy soft hair away from a tiny forehead, and his voice was awed and gentle, “can we name her Asala?”  
  
Aoife nodded slowly and Talagan pressed a sweet kiss into each of their foreheads. Aoife cradled her family close to her, filled with so much joy and hope that she felt like she could believe in miracles. There was a tiny, living, breathing one in her arms, and she was surrounded by so much love. When she finally fell asleep that night, for the first time in forever she believed that everything was going to be just fine.  
  
It was the dawn of 3 Cloudreach 9:47 Dragon, and it was going to be a  _ beautiful _ day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on an epilogue that will hopefully be up soon, but this here's the end of the journey! (Unless I get a wild hare, which I might, who knows.) Thank you for reading! <3 Queenie


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